An Unreal History of Unreal Lives
by ArkTaisch
Summary: "Emma, these... these people aren't real... they're hallucinations... a fake reality." - Real!Regina / "What's the harm of letting a not-real me out of a not-real prison into a not-real world, hmm?" - Wish!Rumple / Well, they're real now, dearie, and they're coming to the Land Without Magic. (Season 7 AU in which all the characters are the Wish Realm versions.)
1. Point of Divergence: Escape

The _Jolly Roger_ came in by moonlight, dropping anchor in the bay. Tinker Bell waited for the crew to make camp on the beach before approaching. She found her target sitting on a boulder, a bottle of rum in his hand. No surprise there.

"Hello, Captain. Back again, I see." Though the pirate was permitted out of Neverland to run Pan's errands, Tink knew that he had been unable in all these years to break the demon's leash. From the flash of resentment in his eyes, she knew that he still hoped for escape.

Captain Hook growled, "What do you want, Tink?"

"You left a few things out of your story the last time we met."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"This woman you want vengeance for: she had a son."

Hook's gaze shot to Tinker Bell, moonlight catching the shock in his eyes. "He's alive?"

"No thanks to you," Tink snorted. "Baelfire told me everything." Well, not everything. She suspected that some things were too painful to speak aloud, and she didn't want to add to the pain by pushing him too hard, but he had said enough.

Hook had the grace to look ashamed. "He wanted off the ship. What was I to do?"

" _Not_ sell him to a demon? He's just a boy. You'd let him die for a few angry words?"

"Well, he didn't die, did he?" mumbled Hook.

"Which means you still have a chance to make things right." Tink fixed the pirate with a glare. "For once in your life, you can choose love over hate. Honor the memory of the woman you loved by saving her son. Take him back to the Enchanted Forest."

"Too late for that, love," Hook scoffed. He took another swig of rum, then wiped his lips. "Pan has his eye on the lad. If I steal him away, the Lost Boys will turn me into a pincushion before you can say 'land ho', and I don't fancy dying of dreamshade poisoning."

"That won't be a problem if you don't come back to Neverland," said Tink.

"You think I haven't tried?" Hook asked through gritted teeth. "Pan sends us out, and his magic drags us back. I can't break his hold on the _Jolly Roger_."

"As to that, I think I may have a way..."

"Last time I begged you to help me, you said you didn't have any magic."

"Yeah, well, things change." She saw the look of interest that he tried to conceal, and she knew she had him. Fallen fairy or not, she could still help at least one child.

* * *

Baelfire was reluctant to hand over the coconut, but Tinker Bell promised him it would get him home. He wasn't sure where 'home' was anymore, and he didn't trust the pirate who had stolen his mother and handed him over to the Lost Boys, but Tink had protected him from Pan's games and let him hide in her treehouse. Now she had found him a way out. He wished she would come with him, but she refused. She had to stay behind to look after the other boys, she said, the ones caught in Pan's enchantment.

It was his only chance of escape. Out of all the boys on the island, he was the only one who dared to dream of escape, because he was the only one who had never chosen to follow Pan. He shuddered, remembering how close he had come in Hamelin to losing himself. His feet had danced to the Piper's tunes, but his heart had still hoped that something survived of his father inside the Dark One. He had little hope now. His memories of the Darlings were only memories — he didn't know how long he had been in Neverland (it seemed forever) but he had eavesdropped on the ship's crew and heard centuries mentioned.

"I've made a deal with the Shadow," Tink told the pirate captain. "In return for its freedom, it will take you to the shores of the Enchanted Forest, cutting all ties that bind you to Neverland."

Bae had been the one to suggest the trap. He had seen how the Shadow was drawn to lights, how it could be mesmerized by a flame. Together with Tink, they had carved the patterns in the shell of the coconut to capture the creature. Now, tied to the prow of the _Jolly Roger_ , it had the power to pull them between realms.

"Can we trust it?" asked Hook.

"More than we can trust _you_ ," said Tink. "Once you open the coconut at the end of your voyage, it will release you from your service. Being a creature of magic, it must obey the rules of magical agreements."

 _That wasn't enough to hold my father to his deal_ , thought Bae bitterly, but he kept his mouth shut. Hook, at least, was persuaded by Tink's argument.

She turned out to be right.

The next day saw the _Jolly Roger_ in the waters off Longbourn. The port town was larger and busier than Bae remembered, but he made no comment, maintaining a sullen silence. He had spent the voyage hunched in a corner of the deck, trying not to get in the way, watching the crew and especially Hook. Despite what Tinker Bell had said, Bae didn't think the pirate had given up his revenge. And the longer he stayed in his company, the more dangerous it became for Baelfire, Rumplestiltskin's son.

Bae had been an unwilling participant in too many of Pan's games to overlook the value of a pawn. If Hook hadn't thought of it yet, he would soon: a child the Dark One cared about was a weakness to exploit. And even now, Bae believed — or desperately hoped — that his father might still care. And if he didn't — gods, no, that would be even worse, to find out that way that he had truly lost Papa forever.

So he kept his thoughts to himself and went along with Hook, letting himself be stashed away in a room upstairs while the captain went downstairs to "make inquiries", as he put it. Bae tried the door; it was locked. Thanking the gods that he was still small enough to squeeze out the window, he climbed carefully to the rooftop, then crept from building to building until he found his way down into a quiet alleyway.

Then he headed away, out of the town as quickly as he dared. It was colder than Neverland, and raining lightly, but he didn't care. Mud splattered his legs and stained his ragged clothes, and only his movement kept him warm. Once dusk fell and he had the cover of darkness, he stepped off the road and called, "Papa!"

In Neverland, he had shouted into the jungle, into the sea, into the caves, dreaming and waking, until he had gone hoarse, but his father had never answered. But this was the Enchanted Forest. This was the edge of the Frontlands. This was home.

"Papa! Rumplestiltskin!"

* * *

 _Rumplestiltskin!_

His hands froze and the wheel spun out of control, forgotten. Straw and gold slid out of his hands as Rumplestiltskin leaped to his feet.

He knew it had to be a lie. That voice, it couldn't be real. Rage consumed him at the impersonation. Who dared to mock him with hope? Ready to do murder with his bare hands, he flung himself from the Dark Castle to the road outside Longbourn. Only to find...

...his boy, shivering in the cold, his clothes soaked through. It was a trick. It had to be a trick. Baelfire was in the Land Without Magic. And how could he be so young, as if he hadn't aged a day since he had gone through the portal? But, oh, he was so convincing. The anger and the hurt in his expression were all too real. Rumplestiltskin stared, mouth agape, until he managed to whisper, "Bae..."

The boy stared back, eyes impossibly wide.

And then Rumplestiltskin couldn't breathe. His heart thumped painfully inside his chest. This wasn't real. A glamour, or a shapeshifter. A spell. And yet—

"You lied to me!" The boy flung the words at him like spears, but he couldn't respond. He couldn't even think.

All he knew was that he sensed no magic here except his own. He gaped, stunned. Was it his son?

"You lied!" the boy shouted again. "You told me Mama was dead. That the pirates took her."

"What?" Rumplestiltskin staggered back, his thoughts whirling. Nothing seemed to make sense. How could his son be here, now, accusing him—

"YOU killed her."

"Bae..." He wanted to protect his son, had always wanted to protect his son, but it was clearly too late for that. If he lied now, he would lose him forever. But the truth was too horrible — he would lose his son anyway. Again.

"You killed her. It's true, isn't it?"

"...yes." Rumplestiltskin watched in agony as Baelfire broke down in tears, sobbing his heart out.

"Oh, Bae." He moved forward, instinctively wanting to comfort his son with a hug, but Bae jerked away.

"Don't touch me!"

"Please, son. I'm sorry." Rumplestiltskin reached out again, then let his hand drop. "I'm so sorry, Bae."

"You never came for me," Bae choked out the words brokenly. "I used to dream of you coming to rescue me. But then I'd wake up and remember how you left me behind."

"I was a coward," Rumplestiltskin admitted, tears running down his own face. "But every moment since I lost you, every waking moment, I've been looking for a way to find you. To tell you that you were right. That you were always right. I should have had the courage to go with you. Please, I know that I can't make up for the past, for the lost time—"

"You left your own son for the power of a dagger! How can I think that things will ever be any different?"

"For you, I can be strong." Rumplestiltskin summoned the Dark One dagger to his hand, then offered it hilt-first to his son. "I chose it once. Now I choose you."

"I don't want the dagger. I want my father back!"

"I know. I know, son. I understand, now." At the time, he had been too blinded by darkness to hold anything but contempt for the cowardly spinner he had once been. But Bae's loss had woken that part of his old self that survived beneath the magic. He could be a better man. He had to be. He looked helplessly at his son. "At least let me take you somewhere out of this rain. Please, Bae. You'll catch your death of cold."

"Would you even care?" Bae shot back.

"I... I love you, Bae." But he knew the words were meaningless, after everything he had done. "I know you don't trust me. I know I've made mistakes. Please let me make it up to you. I can change. I can be better, son, if you believe in me."

It was only after a long moment of silence, during which Rumplestiltskin feared that his son would shout at him to leave and never come back, that Bae finally nodded, relenting.

Giddy with relief, Rumplestiltskin took them back to their old cottage. Magically preserved even after all this time, it was both closer and less alarming than the Dark Castle. Neither speaking at first, they could almost pretend that they were both what they had once been. But looking at his son as he clutched a cup of tea, he knew that forgiveness was not even close.

Eventually, he stammered out a halting confession of the last time he had met his wife. Milah had not been abducted at all. She had never loved him and had left with the pirate without a backward glance. Rumplestiltskin had murdered his boy's mother. She had abandoned Bae. But so had Rumplestiltskin. He was a fool even to dare hope for forgiveness. But at least his boy was warm, dry, fed, and safe. If Rumplestiltskin could do nothing else, he could manage that much.

Later, Baelfire told his own tale, and Rumplestiltskin listened in mounting horror.

 _Neverland?_ With _Peter Pan?_ That Bae had escaped with the help of Killian Jones came as another shock. Rumplestiltskin finally understood how his son had learned his mother's fate — from this pirate who had both damned and saved the boy. Too numb to react, Rumplestiltskin waited for Bae to continue.

"He wants to kill you," Bae said dully, not meeting his eyes.

"Of course he does," Rumplestiltskin snarled, but another thought was overwhelming him, and he staggered to his feet. "You say the Shadow took you to Neverland. Pan's Shadow. It can travel to the Land Without Magic?"

"It can go to all the realms."

"She _lied_ to me!" The Blue Fairy must have known, but she had denied every possibility except a curse. Why had she— no. He didn't care. He would rip her open and feed her liver to the crows. "That hypocritical blue firefly!"

"Papa!"

"She'll die for this. She kept this from me..."

"Papa, no!"

His son didn't want him to kill. With an effort, he focused on the terrified, pleading face of his child. No. He couldn't do this again. "Bae..."

"I don't want you to hurt anyone, Papa."

Rumplestiltskin shut his eyes for a long moment, breathing hard. He drew on every good memory he had of his family and forced back the darkness that threatened to consume him. He could do this. He could do anything. "I won't, Bae. I won't."

But it wasn't enough. He hadn't tried to kill anyone today, but what about tomorrow? Or the next day? How long until he slipped and lost his temper and made another fatal mistake? He saw the doubt in Baelfire's eyes, and it only added to the pain of his regrets.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Baelfire looked down at the dagger he held as gingerly as if it might burst into flames at any moment.

"How can you ever trust me, unless I show you that I'm willing to pay for what I've done?"

It was the plan, almost the same plan. He had Seen himself imprisoned, but assumed it was needed to enact the Dark Curse. His assumption had been wrong. He had already found his son. The prison served another purpose.

So it was that Baelfire captured the Dark One and took him to Snow White's court, accusing him of murdering Baelfire's mother. Rumplestiltskin freely admitted his guilt.

Everyone was amazed. Of course they were. How could a mere boy overcome the Dark One, the mightiest sorcerer in the realm? Baelfire refused to explain, until the Blue Fairy came, and he whispered his secret in her ear. She looked sternly at Rumplestiltskin, and he merely sneered back. The three of them knew the truth, but would she reveal it to her pet royals?

She would not. She spoke only in vague homilies of Light overcoming Dark, then took over construction of a magical prison, the actual work to be done by her dwarves.

Rumplestiltskin made no protest, enduring the Blue Fairy's sanctimonious smirk as she locked him in. The jagged bars neutered his magic, all except his Sight, leaving him alone in the dark with only his visions for company. Food and water were deemed unnecessary, as everyone knew that the Dark One was immortal. His imprisonment might last forever. He hoped not. Perhaps, someday, his son might forgive him. That was his hope.

It was enough; it had to be.

* * *

 **Author's notes:**

So this is a sketch of my version of season 7 (so far mainly the history of the wish realm with the new s7 characters woven in). I am NOT planning to spend two years of my life writing a damn novel with what I wanted to see in s7, but I'm gonna jot down some of it. Instead of time travel shenanigans, I'm just having all Wish Realm characters get cursed into Hyperion Heights. I'm paring down the number of new characters introduced. No Lucy, Tiana, or Naveen. There will be NO ZELENA (I personally can't stand her), and thus no Robin Jr. Sorry. :( I enjoyed Alice/Robin in canon, but will be replacing it with Alice/Drizella for this story (some elements of Robin may be incorporated into this version of Drizella). And even though I usually ship Rumbelle, I'm going GoldenHook this time around - if they're gonna make it canon that Rumple gave Nook his heart, who am I to argue with that? Our pirate's always been fixated on his Crocodile, after all, so we may as well let it go both ways.

The timeline: no, it was never gonna make complete sense, but I managed one that was good enough for me to work with. I'm taking a few liberties and fudging events and timing. I had to age up Baelfire at the time he met Emma, due to the portrait we see in canon (older Baelfire) and Henry saying he'd never known him.

The Wish Realm does not exist until it's created by the wish. This means Gothel and Alice are WR characters, and for my story, so are the Tremaines, Facilier, etc. In fact, no Enchanted Forest 2 at all for me. Characters outside the Wish!EF at the time the wish was made do not actually exist (Zelena, Cora, Pan, Tink, Aladdin, etc.) even though fake histories with those characters exist.


	2. Prisoners and Exiles

The first visitors came cloaked and hooded. Ridiculous, thought Rumplestiltskin. Pretending not to know him after all the trouble he had gone to, making sure that _twue wuv_ was protected.

"Snow White and Prince Charming!" He let an insane cackle escape as he dropped from the bars to the floor.

"We've come to ask you about the—" began the prince.

"Yes, yes, I know why you're here," Rumplestiltskin interrupted. "You want to know about the queen's threat." And how to neutralize it. That meant a change in plans, but the Dark One had more than one curse at his disposal.

A deal was struck. A curse to take away the queen's magic in return for the name of Snow White's unborn daughter. One never knew when a name so deeply embedded in fate's web might come in handy.

* * *

The next visitor came cloaked in the shape of a rat. Once assured of their privacy, the rat became a woman.

"That curse you gave me. It's not working!"

Rumplestiltskin smirked. "You're a smart woman, your majesty. You figure it out." If he was lucky, she never would. If she did... well, the Charming couple would stop her before she could cast it — if he had played his pieces right. Being who he was, he knew he had.

The Dark Curse would never be cast. Rumplestiltskin ignored the nagging memory of a seer's prophecy — seers could be wrong. He had found his son. That was all that mattered.

* * *

The boy had run off. Good riddance to him — Captain Hook made only a cursory attempt to track him down before giving up. Baelfire was old enough to make his own way in the world. Any half-formed idea of using the Crocodile's brat as leverage faded away quickly, and Hook told himself that it would have been bad form to involve a child in his feud.

That left the magical dagger. As to where it was hidden... Smee brought back a rumor of a woman who might know the secret. Currently a prisoner of the Evil Queen, the woman had once been a slave in the Dark Castle. How Smee had found out, Hook didn't know and didn't ask. The man always seemed to know too much about everyone. Luckily for his continued health, he displayed little ambition and remained loyal to his captain.

The trip to the prison tower ended in Hook's capture at the hands of Regina, the Evil Queen herself. She spared his life only to send him after her own mother, after a test of his resolve. Well. The test hadn't been pleasant — finding out that his father was alive and well with a new son to replace the ones he had abandoned. Hook had avenged Liam — the real Liam — with a knife in the old bastard's gut. And then the Evil Queen had sent him to Wonderland, only for him to be captured yet again, this time by Regina's mother, Cora, an even more powerful sorceress than her daughter.

Bloody hell. He hated sorcery. Once he disentangled himself from that mess, he made himself scarce and kept to low dives well away from royalty and their penchant for black magic and heavy-handed guards. From what Cora had let slip, all he had to do for his revenge was to wait for the Evil Queen to cast her Dark Curse. The Curse would take them all to a land without magic, where Hook would finally have the advantage over the Crocodile.

Simple.

Except that instead of a billowing curse cloud, he was met by a defeated Evil Queen-in-exile. With her magic gone, Regina was forced to give up on grand schemes of vengeance — but Hook refused to let that end his own not-quite-as-grand schemes. He traded passage on his ship in return for a map she had — a map to a tower with magic possibly powerful enough to contain the Dark One, a tower rumored to be guarded by a hideous witch.

Rumor lied. The witch was a fair young maiden and a prisoner of the tower, not its guardian. Petty jealousy from petty royalty had marked her as outcast, unclean. Tears glistened in beautiful blue eyes as the girl described the injustice. She begged the brave captain to free her. He had only to go to a certain garden and bring back a certain golden flower.

"It has great power, power to lock and unlock the gates of this tower," said the girl, who introduced herself as Gothel. Though she gave no rank or title, her speech and manners betrayed a noble upbringing.

"Aye, I'll help you," said Captain Hook upon hearing her pleas. "A daring rescue might be in order, in return for a share of this magic." If he couldn't get his hands on the Dark One's dagger, then trapping the demon in this tower for all eternity would do nicely as vengeance for Milah. Poetic, really, considering how trapped she had felt in her marriage to the coward. Now the Crocodile would feel her torment.

With Smee's help and his own talent for holding a tune, the golden flower was soon obtained, giant gnome or no giant gnome.

"One golden flower, my lady, freshly plucked." Hook returned to the tower, pleased to have this chance to be the hero.

The prisoner was grateful, so grateful that it would have been ungracious to reject her passionate decrees of gratitude. So passionate that Hook ended up spending the whole night in her embrace.

Everything was going swimmingly until Hook found himself clutching the resulting progeny in his arms. It seemed that as well as unlocking gates, the magical golden flower had the power to bring a pregnancy to term in the short span between sunset and sunrise. And it was the baby that was the key to the witch's prison: the magic that held her was satisfied as long as one of her bloodline remained in the tower.

A baby that Gothel left behind with a smile on her face, and she expected no better of him. After all, he was a pirate, wasn't he? No matter how he played the gallant, it was revenge that drove him. Something she thought they had in common.

"I thought you of all people would understand. What they did to me has its price, a price they shall pay in full." Her eyes glittered with hatred. "The takers, the destroyers, the ones who locked me in stone — they shall not escape punishment. Come. Time to go. You can have the magic you wanted." She proffered a vial containing distilled power from her golden flower. "A few drops can trap even the Dark One forever."

"Just as our daughter is now trapped?"

"What can she be to you, other than a by-product of a night's careless frolicking?" Gothel scoffed.

"No." Hook turned away. Something in him rebelled at the witch's offer. His heart ached upon seeing the newborn, so tiny and helpless, innocent and alone. His child. Who else would love her if he did not?

"So be it." Gothel left, taking her magic with her.

Hook refused to regret the loss. He left the tower only long enough to find his crew and passenger, in order to leave his ship to Smee. "I have something more important than this mission or revenge to attend to."

Ignoring the disbelieving looks of the Evil Queen and his crew, Hook returned to take up his new role. He named his daughter "Alice", after his mother. "She stayed with me as long as she could, and I vow to do the same for you."

* * *

The damn pirate had gone soft. Regina took it as an opportunity. The new captain, Smee, was a natural groveler. Upon questioning, he admitted that the _Jolly Roger_ was the infamous ship that had for centuries sailed the arcane passage to Neverland and back.

"Take me there," Regina ordered Smee.

"Wh-what? But we just broke free..." Smee clutched his red cap and stammered apologies. "We can't go back."

"No? Perhaps I can persuade you." Regina lifted a hand before remembering the curse that had taken her magic. _Damn._ She scowled. "Let me remind you that I made a deal with your former captain. Think long and carefully before you refuse me again..."

"But Neverland..." Smee's protest withered under Regina's glare. "Are you sure, your majesty?"

* * *

Her certainty took a blow when the first person Regina found on the island wasn't Peter Pan but Tinker Bell. Or rather, say that Tinker Bell found _her_ , then dosed her with a puff of poppy dust by way of greeting.

What the hell was the damn fairy doing on Neverland?

Regina had plenty of time to ponder the question after she woke up on the floor of Tinker Bell's tree house, trussed up in wiry vines like a roast chicken. _Poppy dust._ The fairy had used poppy dust on her, which suggested she didn't have magic, either.

That guess proved to be accurate, but little consolation, when Tinker Bell returned and aimed a spear far too close to Regina's throat for comfort. "It's tipped with dreamshade, so don't try anything."

"Dreamshade?" Regina tried for a tone of professional curiosity.

Tink snorted. "Concentrated dreamshade poison. No magic could save you from an agonizing death — even if you had any." She bared her teeth and dared Regina to prove her wrong.

Regina longed to burn that smirk off Tink's face, but she didn't even have enough power to break these makeshift ropes. Then again— "Nor do you. You look terrible. What happened to you?"

"I tried to help _you_. Do you know what you've cost me?" Tink turned, exposing her back.

Regina gasped at the scars. "Your wings."

"All because you were too afraid to embrace happiness."

"It would have made me weak!"

"And you're strong, now?" Tink sneered. She thrust the spear at Regina again. "Why are you in Neverland, Regina?"

"Don't shove that stick in my face."

Tink growled and pulled the spear back. "It doesn't matter. I can guess. You want your magic back, which means you're here for pixie dust. Stealing it or..."

"Or what?"

"Or worse. Making a deal with Pan..."

"It's none of your business, fairy."

"It's everyone's business if your pursuit of revenge is just gonna hurt more innocent people."

"'Innocent'? Don't make me laugh."

"Who's laughing?" Tink leaned forward and hissed, "I heard about your exile. You have a chance to walk away. To make a new life for yourself. One not filled up with anger."

"Look who's talking." Regina glanced pointedly at the spear. "And you're so happy in _your_ exile?"

Tink jerked back, straightening. "I do what I can to help. The Lost Boys..."

"Grateful, are they?"

"It doesn't matter." Tink's voice turned cold. "I do what I can."

"And what are you planning to do with me? Kill me?"

Tink didn't answer. Whatever she was planning to say was interrupted by the arrival of Lost Boys loyal to Pan. Regina's arrival on Neverland hadn't gone unnoticed, and now she was taken away to meet its master.

Regina didn't let herself be disappointed when Tink stepped aside. As she was dragged away, she heard the fairy hiss after her, "It's no use. You'll see. You didn't believe in its power before. What makes you think it'll do anything for you now?"

Regina shook her head. Tink was wrong. Pixie dust — more powerful than mere fairy dust — would restore her magic. The Blue Fairy went to great lengths to control its distribution, but Neverland was the one source beyond her grasp. And that was down to Peter Pan.

* * *

Pan was a boy with eyes far too old for his face. But Regina knew something about dealing with ancient, malevolent creatures, and she made herself a useful pawn in his game. She claimed ownership of the _Jolly Roger_. Knowing that Hook had once served Peter Pan, she now offered herself in his place.

Pan wanted something. He was looking for someone. Someone in the realms outside Neverland. He had a drawing — a child, a young boy. A boy who might or might not yet exist, but Pan wanted him brought here. The demon's eyes gleamed with unholy greed as he spoke of his desire, but Regina didn't care. What did it matter, as long as Regina got what she wanted out of the deal? A vial of pixie dust, and unending youth for as long as she needed to search for this unnamed boy. The bargain struck, Pan gave her a drawing of her quarry and sent her on her way.

Smee, in his terror of Pan's wrath, made no objection when Evil Queen Regina took over the ship as Pirate Queen Regina. Where Smee gave way, the rest of the crew followed, equally as unwilling to cross the demon of Neverland.

* * *

The third visitor came in the dead of night, throwing off his hood as he picked his way warily down the dimly-lit corridor.

 _Someone doesn't want to be seen visiting the Dark One,_ thought the imp, chuckling to himself. Then he saw who it was, and his heart skipped a beat. His voice came out in a strangled croak, "Bae!"

The boy stopped short of the cell and stared at Rumplestiltskin, eyes wide with uncertainty. He whispered, "Papa..."

Rumplestiltskin pressed himself against the bars, hands gripping the dwarf-wrought stone in an effort to keep himself from reaching out.

 _Don't frighten the boy, you fool._

"Are you..." Rumplestiltskin swallowed heavily. "Are you well? Do they treat you... are they... kind?" He hoped they were kind. At the first sign of distress on his son's face, he would see them _burn_ , these Charming heroes. If they dared hurt Baelfire, they would suffer a hundred-fold. No matter that he was imprisoned, he would...

 _Pull yourself together!_ He forced down the insane cackle that threatened to escape his lips, clenching his teeth and waiting for his son to answer.

Baelfire managed a smile, a small one, but the first his father had seen in... in far too long. "I'm a squire now, Papa."

"Oh?" Rumplestiltskin choked out. A squire? His brave, goodhearted son, all too willing to plunge himself into danger. But the war was over, the realm at peace. Bae would be safe.

"To Sir Lancelot," Bae told him.

"Ah! Lancelot." Rumplestiltskin nodded, remembering. "Queen Snow's general. A good man."

"Yes. It's a great honor." Bae stared at him, eyes dark and longing for... for what, his father's approval?

Rumplestiltskin fought back tears. "Aye, that it is. I... I'm proud of you, son."

Bae ducked his head, then, muttering to the floor, "I have to go, Papa. They're expecting me first thing in the morning."

"Yes. Yes, of course..." Rumplestiltskin let the words trail off, clinging to the bars, feeling that they were the only things keeping him upright as he watched his son turn his back and walk away again.

* * *

The damn fairy had been right: Regina couldn't make the pixie dust work. No matter how she scowled at it, no matter how fiercely she poured her rage into it, there was no telltale green glow from the vial. She nearly flung the useless thing overboard, but stopped herself at the last minute. She could always trade it to some gullible idiot, after all.

Meanwhile, she had command of the _Jolly Roger_ , a ship made from enchanted wood and the fastest in the realms. Why let that advantage go to waste? That insufferable girl had usurped Regina's kingdom — why let her profit from it, when merchant ships were such easy targets? But she was a queen, not a thief. Regina enlisted Smee's aid in acquiring letters of marque from those who still harbored grudges against the Charmings, King-in-Exile George being prominent among them. A privateer was not much different from a pirate in practice, but she still had her pride.

Money was power, Regina told herself. Gold piece by gold piece, she was winning back her kingdom. When she had enough to hire an army, revenge would finally be within her grasp, magic or no magic.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Why the show insisted on having another baby born from a rape by deception, I have no idea. It was completely unnecessary and icky. Gothel was just Gothel all along in my version.


	3. Time and Tide Melts the Snowman

"They made me a knight, Papa."

"I'm so proud of you, son," whispered the imp. Knowing that Baelfire had earned a place for himself where he was valued and accepted, that he had friends and someday a family of his own — it was more than the crippled spinner had dared hope for. It made even these years of isolated captivity endurable. All for the boy — Rumplestiltskin could be happy for his sake, whether he ever forgave his father or not. He reached out through the bars, but when Bae made no move to approach, sighed and let his hand drop. "Sir Baelfire..."

"Yeah." Bae stood frozen, his face shadowed, caught in indecision. Then he scuffled back a step. "Are you... are you all right? Here?"

"It's fine. Many a hermit has it worse," Rumplestiltskin said with forced levity. "This is... this is my penance. For everything."

"I wish..."

"What?" His fingers tightened around the bars. Anything he could do for his son, he swore to himself, he would. Anything.

"I wish there had been another way."

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes. He was useless. Powerless when it came to the things that truly mattered. "I'm sorry."

It was a long time before Baelfire spoke again. "I know. Good-bye, Papa."

Rumplestiltskin nodded heavily. He said nothing as his son turned and walked away again.

* * *

Freeport was the largest town in the Pelagic League, a loose confederation of trade ports on the islands off the southeast coast of Misthaven. "Trade port" was a euphemism for "den of pirates and exiles", but the League's strategic location in disputed waters between two rival kingdoms allowed it to keep its independence.

Regina and her crew made landfall during the autumn harvest festival, mingling openly with the crowds as it was traditionally a time of peace. She took the opportunity to scan the faces for any sign of the mysterious boy that Pan wanted. By now, Regina doubted he existed at all, but a deal was a deal, and she had no reason to lose the demon's patronage when it cost her so little. As expected, she saw no sign of the boy from Pan's visions, but before she left, she had one more duty in Freeport. Or rather, in the countryside an hour's ride away, where a small manor tucked away in the hills quietly decayed.

"Your majesty," the footman greeted her, and Regina knew at once from his tone that something was wrong.

Her father was dying.

"No!" Regina's denial was as empty and useless as her royal title. Her father couldn't even hear her. He had fallen — two weeks ago, whispered the servants — and not awoken since. It was no curse, no dark magic that could be lifted, nor any ailment the healers could cure.

"It's only a matter of time," the latest healer advised her. "If you have gods, make your prayers now. Or your farewells."

"Out!" Regina's fingers twitched with a lingering memory of power, and she fought back an urge to lash out at the man. "Leave us. Go!"

The healer bowed, left.

Regina barely noticed. She reached for her father's limp, shriveled hands and tears filled her eyes. "Daddy... Daddy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He made no response.

Regina sobbed brokenly. The only person who still loved her, the only person she still loved, and he was dying and she couldn't save him—

Or could she? Sudden hope seized her and she fumbled frantically for the vial of pixie dust she had carried all these years. She closed her eyes as her fingers tightened around the glass. _Please, please, please work..._ She poured everything she had into the vial. Her hands shook as she uncorked the container and let the dust rain gently onto her father's face. Even through her closed eyelids, she felt the warm glow of magic. And then...

"Regina?" It was the barest whisper. It was a miracle.

"Daddy!" Regina opened her eyes, a wide smile already stretching her lips, elated to see her father awake to meet her gaze. "It worked. You'll be all right!"

But he shook his head. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. My... my time is up."

"No! You don't know that—"

"I know." He gestured weakly towards her, and Regina caught his hand, brushed it against her face as the tears began to fall again. "It's all right, Regina. You gave me these moments... to see you again. And to say... I love you."

"I love you, too, Daddy." She whispered the words, bending down to kiss his forehead tenderly.

"And to say... I'm sorry. That I couldn't protect you from your mother."

"It's not your fault. I... I never meant for you to suffer." Regina forced out the words, remembering a time when she had been prepared to sacrifice her father's life for her vengeance. But now... now it hurt to look at him. She could _see_ the effects of the pixie dust wearing off. And then...

"Don't... don't worry about me. I only want to know you're doing the right thing." His eyes drifted shut.

"Daddy!"

"Good bye, Regina." Her father's lips shaped the words, but had no more breath to speak.

* * *

 _The right thing?_ Regina snarled the words to herself as she grimly supervised her father's burial. The site was marked with a simple slab of inscribed stone, one among many in the graveyard. No fancy mausoleum for the prince-in-exile, but Henry had always been a man of humble tastes, unlike his wife or father. _What is the right thing, Daddy?_

He had never liked her pursuit of vengeance, especially not against that simpering princess Snow. _She was just a child_ , he would tell her. _It was your mother who ruined your life._ But Cora was dead, and Snow now reigned as Queen over the kingdom that should have been Regina's. Snow was practically unassailable, even if Regina hadn't been enchanted to be unable to hurt her. Snow was the darling of her people, or, more to the point, her army.

 _Why should she have everything when I have nothing? To live happily ever after with her true love, when she was the one who sent Daniel to his death? Is it right to smile and pretend it doesn't matter? Is it right to let her get away with stealing my kingdom?_

 _If you were here, Daniel, would you tell me to forgive her? I would do it for you — if you were alive. We would be happy together. Your kiss would break my curse._

Then she remembered kissing her father. She had loved her father, and he had loved her, but it hadn't been enough. The truth of the matter was that he had hated her darkness, just as he had hated it in her mother, making true love's kiss impossible between them. Her father meant well, but his advice was useless. And now it was too late to gain his acceptance. _I'm sorry, Daddy._ She refused to just give up, refused to let everything she had done mean nothing.

Later, Regina counted and recounted the pitiful hoard she had amassed. It wasn't enough. And with the pixie dust gone, she had no magic at all.

 _What would you tell me, mother?_ Regina thought, already knowing the answer. Cora would tell her to let nothing stop her, to take power and wield it. To force her enemies to their knees.

She sighed, wishing for something more practical. She didn't _have_ power.

 _If you don't have power, seek it out and take it._

She had tried, hadn't she? Where else could she look? Magical artifacts tended to be well-hidden and well-protected. Magical creatures... were not cooperative, and only helped you for their own purposes, as she had already found out with Pan. As for the Dark One, he had failed her and was now in a worse situation than she herself.

 _So what do you suggest, Mother?_

It was time she asked.

* * *

"Captain Mills, or should I say 'your majesty'? Enchanté. A tip of the hat from Dr. Facilier." The man touched his top hat with a smile and a nod as he suited action to words. His other hand rested loosely on the handle of a cane.

Regina glanced around warily at the cluttered little shop. Dr. Facilier was known as a soothsayer and a purveyor of magical ingredients. He dressed in a flamboyant style foreign to the Enchanted Forest. Regina did not trust his smile. "You know who I am?"

"It's my job, isn't it? And not to drop names, but I have a few friends on the other side."

"So I've heard. That's why I'm here today."

"Do tell." A wave of Facilier's hand shut the door, and a shimmer in the air marked the wards that protected his shop against intrusion.

"I need to speak to my mother." Regina looked hard at Facilier, but he merely nodded in understanding. "More to the point, I need you to let her speak to me. I've had enough of empty prayers tossed into the void."

Facilier smirked. With a flick of his wrist, a velvet bag appeared in his hand. He spilled a scatter of small, colored bones onto a table. After a moment's study, he collected the bones and looked up at Regina. "Hmm. I think you have been misled about your mother's fate. Cora Mills isn't dead."

Regina's fist slammed into the table. "Impossible!" She stared at him as she tried to think. Cora was _alive_? If that was true, then whose corpse had Regina buried? Hook had lied to her... or was Facilier lying now? "If she is alive, then where is she now?"

"She rules Wonderland, as she has done for years," Facilier answered imperturbably.

"The Red Queen rules Wonderland."

"It's only a name, my dear. But bones expose the truth under the skin."

"Then I need to go there. I need to _know_ ," hissed Regina. "Open a portal for me. Can you do that?"

Facilier nodded. "I can. But it will cost you."

"I can pay." Regina emptied a bag onto the table, a small fortune in looted jewelry.

Facilier eyed the collection in disdain. "Hmm. No, keep your trinkets. I'll do as you ask, for this..." He snapped his fingers. A ring appeared between thumb and forefinger.

Regina gasped, recognizing it. "Daniel's ring!" She lunged for it, but Facilier stepped smoothly away.

He lifted his cane, holding her back. "Ah, ah..."

"Give that back to me." Regina brought her hand down on the cane. "I'll find another portal jumper."

"Others may be hired more cheaply, that is true." Facilier held her gaze as he offered the ring back to her. "But this buys you more than a doorway — my portals bestow a blessing of fate on those who pass through."

"A blessing of fate?" Regina tried to sound contemptuous, but she knew he wasn't lying. She had done her research before approaching Facilier, and his magic was intimately tied to life and death, chance and mischance.

"Just so." Facilier lowered his cane. "The question is, which is more precious to you? This ring? Or whatever you hope to gain on the other side of the portal?"

Regina reached for the ring, but paused as Facilier asked his question. Magic always came with a price. The ring... the ring represented a more innocent time. But Daniel was long gone. All she had left was memory and vengeance.

 _This world will pay for what it did to us. That I promise you, Daniel. But I need my mother's help. Five years and I've gotten nowhere._

And if she meant to face her mother without any magic of her own, Regina needed every advantage she could get. She took a step back, her hand dropping back to her side even as her fingers curled into fists. "Very well. Open the damn portal."

Facilier smiled. He drew out the moment, deliberately taking his time to inspect the ring from every angle. Then his focus shifted past Regina. "Ah. Welcome."

Regina couldn't help but steal a glance behind her. No one. She remained the only customer in the shop. "No tricks, Facilier."

"No trick." Facilier tipped his hat to the back wall. "Will you not speak to your beloved?"

"No!" snapped Regina. It must be a trick. And if it wasn't... she suppressed a shudder. She knew Facilier's reputation, knew what he could do to a shade. Cora could look after herself, but Daniel... if it _was_ Daniel, she dared not betray any weakness in front of such a predator. "I've paid your price. Just get on with it."

* * *

Facilier let the swirling vortex snap shut once Regina had passed through it. Silence settled back over his shop. He smirked at the ghost lingering in the shadows.

It lacked the means to break the silence, but Facilier heard it all the same. _Please don't._

Facilier chuckled. "Don't what, little shade?"

 _I saw the way you were looking at her._

"A fine woman. But lonely, don't you agree?"

 _Leave her be!_

Facilier raised a mocking eyebrow. "Don't you want her to find happiness? To love again?"

 _Yes..._

"...just not with me?"

 _You have too much darkness in you._

"And you not enough, which is why you are dead and I am not."

The shade glared impotently at Facilier.

He shook his head, and said more gently, "Go, my friend. There is nothing more for you on this side of eternity." He held up the ring. "She has released her claim."

 _That's just a bit of metal._

"Don't pretend to misunderstand the significance of a symbol."

 _You tricked her._

"Tricked her?" Facilier scoffed at the idea. "She knew what she was doing. She is no longer the innocent girl you tumbled in the hay. She is her mother's daughter, and like her mother, a student of Rumplestiltskin — the deal maker par excellence."

 _She's still Regina._

"And you're still dead." Metal crumbled in his grip, falling to the floor in a shower of dust. The ghost wailed silently and vanished.

* * *

Perhaps it was Facilier's "blessing of fate" that let Regina so easily find her mother through the madness of Wonderland.

Cora had replaced her mask — replaced a queen — as was her wont. Anastasia, the original Red Queen, had been the body in the coffin. The Queen of Hearts was dead; Cora lived on.

And her grip on Regina's heart was still too strong: the traitorous organ twisted painfully in her chest when her mother revealed her true face. "Mother."

"Darling. I hoped you would come back to me, someday." Cora enveloped Regina in her embrace, and Regina was powerless to resist.

"Mother... I've been cursed." Regina swallowed uncomfortably, not sure how to ask for help from the woman she had tried to kill.

"I know." Her mother had always known. And when Regina stumbled her way through an apology, Cora waved it off. She didn't blame her daughter for her attempted matricide. "I understand why you felt you had to do it. That's why I gave you your space, stayed out of your life."

Cora wanted to help her. And having exhausted other options, Regina was willing to accept her help, even if it meant letting her mother sink her claws into her once more.

But she couldn't trust her. Never again. And thus, true love's kiss failed between them.

"I'm sorry." Cora's sadness was genuine. She had taken her heart back for her daughter's sake, but still it wasn't enough. Succeed or fail, they both knew that Cora would not long permit herself this weakness.

"I should have known better." Regina forced herself to indifference. "Send me back, Mother."

"No, wait. There is something that can help you."

"What is it?"

"A way to find your happy ending when the obvious paths are blocked. The magic of Wonderland is unorthodox in its workings, but perhaps that is what you need, Regina."

The Serendipity Deck resembled a set of Tarot cards drawn by a madman, but what else would one expect from Wonderland? Regina didn't ask how Cora had acquired them.

"I never used them myself. Too unpredictable for my tastes." Cora handed the cards in their wooden box to Regina. "But you've always had a rebellious streak — they may suit you better."

Better than pixie dust, Regina hoped. She could feel the magic in the cards, a slippery, twilight enchantment that defied direct control. The first card she drew turned out to be a portal that sent her back to the _Jolly Roger_.

Well, well. Had her mother finally given her a gift with no strings attached? Regina resolved to tread carefully for now.

* * *

"Bae." Rumplestiltskin drank in the sight of his son, all the demented whispers in his head soothed by the evidence of Bae's health and happiness. It was almost enough to drive back the nightmares. These days Baelfire was the only one who ever visited. With the realm at peace, no one was desperate enough to seek the Dark One's help. To the kingdom, he was better forgotten.

His son brought food now. The first time it happened, Rumplestiltskin was stunned into silence. He took Bae's offering through the bars with numb fingers and clutched it to his chest, eyes wet as he stared at his son.

"I'm meant to be a knight, Papa, but what kind of chivalry is it to starve a prisoner?"

"I... the Dark One doesn't starve, Bae." But he could smell the bread. Meat — salami. Cheese. Fruit. Luxuries that had not crossed his lips in five years. He swallowed his sudden craving, reminding himself that such luxuries meant nothing, a trivial sacrifice for Bae's safety and happiness.

"Maybe not. But you get hungry. I know you do."

Rumplestiltskin looked away, ashamed of his weakness. He tried to hide his hunger from his son, just as he had done when Bae was a boy and Rumplestiltskin a peasant barely making ends meet. "It's no matter."

"It does matter. I'll talk to the queen. I should have spoken up before—"

"No, no, Bae, leave it alone..." He didn't want his son to risk his position in the court, not for his sake. "It's nothing more than I deserve."

Bae shook his head stubbornly. "They say the Dark One is a monster. What does that make me? They don't know I'm your son."

"You mustn't tell them."

"The Blue Fairy knows."

"She won't say anything." Rumplestiltskin looked away, but not before he saw the flash of pain in his son's eyes.

"She won't say anything, because to admit that the Dark One has a son who is a knight of the royal court would make you too human."

"They have it right, Bae. I _am_ a monster."

"You're not, Papa," Bae said quietly. "A monster wouldn't feel guilt, wouldn't submit to all this." He gestured at his father's prison.

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes. "The things I've done... what difference does it make to my victims what _I_ feel?"

"The things you've done... like saving me from the ogres? Saving Morraine, and a thousand others? Papa, the Blue Fairy didn't save us. You did."

"I should have listened to you, son. I should have stopped. Stopped before I hurt so many people."

"But you didn't stop helping people, either. You saved the kingdom of Avonlea when no one else would, or could."

"Ah," Rumplestiltskin sighed. "I made a deal." His throat closed on the words. _Belle. I found my son. You would have liked him._

"You didn't have to make a deal, but you did. And Blue's 'help' came with a cost, too."

 _Three hundred years of abandonment_ , Rumplestiltskin thought bitterly.

"She must have known what would happen. Or guessed." Bae shook his head. "She didn't help me at all. Or you. But that doesn't mean there isn't a way, some way of freeing you from the darkness, Papa."

"No. Too dangerous," Rumplestiltskin whispered hoarsely. Belle had tried, and look how that had turned out. He fought back tears. "Bae, no."

"I'll be careful," Bae promised. "You'll see, Papa. We can't lose hope."

 _The boy's been spending too much time with the Charming heroes_ , came the jeering voices of the darkness. _There is no hope for you._

 _That's not important._ Rumplestiltskin swore silently that this time he would do better, that this time he wouldn't ruin his son's hope. If they failed, let the consequences fall on his head alone.

After Bae left, Rumplestiltskin squashed the urge to fall upon his son's gift like some ravenous beast; after so long without, his body was ill-equipped for digestion. He unwrapped the cloth-wrapped bundle with trembling hands. It was the act of giving itself that was important: a flicker of light that rekindled the dying embers of his humanity.

He risked swallowing a handful of blackberries, then stashed the rest in a crevice in the back wall. He had cracked the stone long ago, slipping the flaw unnoticed through Blue's spells. It was the one place in the cell exempt from the magic keeping the prison clean. Then the implications of the gift struck him fully.

 _He forgives me?_

The thought filled him with elation, then terror — because happiness never lasted. Not for him. Hope was a cruel illusion. The memory of sweetness soured on his tongue.

 _There is no hope for you_ , the darkness reminded him.

 _Shut up!_

Rumplestiltskin crawled into the darkest corner of his cell. He closed his eyes and lifted his hand, groping for the fleeting images of the future around his son. The kingdom was at peace now, but how long would that last? Clouds gathered around his son's future, darkened...

Years, he thought. He had ten years, twelve, before the clouds closed in and swallowed Bae. He would find a way to protect his son.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Chapter title taken from Doctor Who (7th Doctor in "Time and the Rani").


	4. The Tower

**Author's notes:** Sorry to disappoint, guest reviewer who hoped for Bae to find Belle, but she's already dead. :( I stuck to near-canon Wish!Realm (as initially presented in s6, except for the Wish!Robin thing.) There are other fics where Wish!Belle lives, though! I even wrote one myself back during s6.

Oops, on rewatching s7, I saw that I forgot that Rumple's cell in the Wish!Realm was actually a different design than the original. (Never mind the weirdness of the location.) For this fic, let's just say it was the same cell in the same place in both realms.

* * *

 _The Tower tarot card, usually numbered as the 16th Major Arcana, depicts a tower (sometimes a tree) struck by lightning. It is said to signify danger, crisis, sudden change, or disaster, brought about in a confluence of your own choices and forces beyond your control._

* * *

The Evil Queen's triumph came as the clock struck twelve. Vivid as life, she crushed the hearts of Snow White and Charming, one in each hand.

 _Is any of this real?_

The three small figures acted out their play on a mechanical stage, receding again as the last chime faded away.

 _Oracular magic is not to be trusted._ Regina scowled at the animated illustration on the card. _Killing Time_ , it read, depicting a clock full of gears and weights and delicate machinery beyond the capability of the Enchanted Forest. But they had them in Wonderland, just as they had strains of sorcery unknown elsewhere.

 _You have only to wait_ , the card seemed to say to her. _Tick, tock, as inevitable as time, victory will be yours. You have only to wait._

Regina sighed, slipping the card back into the deck. Was it some trick of her mother's? But Regina had done her own investigation: this was the genuine article, the Serendipity Deck, created long before Cora's birth. Oracular magic couldn't be trusted any more than genie magic, but nevertheless it was bound by certain rules.

 _Fine. If you know anything, you know I'm not good at waiting_ , she snarled silently at the cards. _What do you suggest I do in the meantime?_

She shuffled the deck and flipped over the top card. _Full Steam Ahead_ depicted a mirror. Before she could puzzle out its meaning, Regina's huff of confusion hit the surface, and whatever it held was hidden under a gray layer of condensation.

"Oh, _very_ helpful." Regina glared at the card until the gray cleared to reveal her face underneath. "Seriously? Is that all you've got?"

The next card came up completely blank.

"Well, if that's the way you want to play it!" Regina shoved the cards back into their wooden box, suddenly exhausted.

* * *

"What do you mean, we're not going to be pirates anymore?" Smee asked his question in private once the initial astonishment at Regina's announcement had subsided.

"We've been at this for five years, and what do we have to show for it? A bad reputation and a treasury bleeding gold." Regina grimaced. "You've seen the books: too much of our income goes to evasion spells. And bribes. Worse, people we buy don't stay bought, and we're back to dodging warships again."

The more successful they were, the more of a target they became. Regina left unspoken the fact that more of their profits went into the pockets of the crew than into her own coffers. To her chagrin, she had to treat her pack of thieving lowlifes better than she had ever treated her Black Knights. No longer able to crush their hearts on a whim, she had to win their loyalty through generosity and actual leadership.

"So what do we do instead?"

"First off, we pay off the people who matter, one last time. Then, a paint job, a new flag, and a new name — and the _Jolly Roger_ is no more."

* * *

The _Malus_ flew not the skull and crossbones, but an apple tree on a field of green, all enclosed by the colors of the Pelagic League. Her cargo was honestly bought and sold, and if the finer points of taxation and legality were skirted, it was not worth anyone's official notice. As Captain Manzana, Regina rebranded herself as an adventurer and explorer — an independent agent with nominal allegiance to Freeport, where her father was buried.

She didn't forget her quest for revenge, but bit by bit, her sense of grievance no longer seemed as important. Of course she still hated Snow White, but now that she knew that vengeance would come in time, she allowed herself to enjoy the freedom that she had never known as Cora's daughter, Leopold's wife, or even the Evil Queen.

* * *

Regina cursed the sun, the humidity, and the swarms of insects that blanketed the bayou. The rumors of a giant, magical man-eating alligator (and the corresponding bounty) had lured her to this godsforsaken backwater to go hunting. Beyond the promise of gold, Regina knew enough witchcraft to find uses for a magical beast, dead or alive.

So here she was, her crew split up between three large skiffs, making her way into the swamp while sweat washed out the bug-repellant herbal ointment smeared on her skin. Their main weapon was a long wooden pole tipped with the carcass of a small pig (and a buzzing halo of flies).

"It's how we hunted crocodiles on Neverland," Rafe had explained to them. He had been a Lost Boy before he ran away to join the pirates. "String a chicken up on a pole, see, only the chicken's stuck full of broken glass dipped in dreamshade poison." One scratch in the crocodile's tender gullet, and it was done for. One scratch from careless handling, and the Lost Boy hunter was just as doomed, but as far as Pan was concerned, that was all part of the fun.

The monster alligator being said to be big enough to swallow a man whole, Regina had decided to go with more substantial bait. She had a store of dreamshade poison, naturally, and glass shards were easy to come by. Using the Serendipity Deck and a few strands of hair left by one of the human victims, Regina cobbled together a tracking spell.

* * *

"Twenty-five foot or I'm a monkey's uncle," declared Rafe, shading his eyes with a hand as he squinted at the creature swimming slowly around a clump of cypress trees extending out from the shore. Then a spear flashed down from one of the trees, glancing off the alligator's hide to splash into the water. "Whoa!"

"Mmm." Regina's gaze swept across the scene, then found a man balancing precariously at the base of a thick branch, one arm clinging to the trunk. A moment later, the spear materialized in a puff of black smoke in the man's other hand. "Ah!"

"That's no way to hunt," grumbled Rafe. "That's cheatin', like."

Regina snorted in amusement. "Then show us how it's done, boy." He had a point, though. Given magic, why bother with pointy sticks? Well, she would ask the treed hunter later. Meanwhile...

The alligator took the bait. It nearly capsized Rafe's boat when he was a hair slow in letting go of the pole. Pig locked in its jaws, the alligator thrashed and rolled under the water. After that, it was only a matter of time before the poison took effect.

"Regina!" The man in the tree stared down at them in surprise.

It took her a moment to recognize him: she had never seen Facilier in such a bedraggled state: hatless, clothes torn and muddied, face startled into a moment of vulnerability. He almost looked human. Suppressing a grin, Regina waved back at him and called out, "Doctor Facilier. Fancy meeting you here. Lovely day for a hunt. Not to intrude, but, well, you did have your shot at the beast. And missed."

Facilier glowered at her, but admitted, "My usual methods proved... ineffective." He glanced down at the spear in his hand, then tossed it away again in disgust. "And this was no improvement."

"Please, join us. We have... benches. That perch can't be very comfortable."

Facilier glanced over at the dying alligator, then back at Regina. His lips quirked, and then he nodded. He vanished in a cloud of black and red smoke, reappearing next to her. "Thank you, Captain."

They watched together as the crew hauled out the dead monster and secured it with ropes to the back of a boat.

"Tow it back to the village," Regina directed them. As they began moving again, she turned to Facilier. "So why were you hunting it? Not your usual prey..."

Facilier sighed. "It took something of mine." He glanced sidewise at her. "And now that you have it... what price do you ask?"

Regina smirked. She let the moment drag out. "Maybe I don't wish to sell."

"Regina..."

She remembered Daniel's ring. _Ask for it back!_ But no. It wouldn't bring _him_ back, only painful memories. Or she could take a leaf from Rumplestiltskin's book and ask for a favor. "Not now. Later, I'll tell you."

The village was soon in sight. The crew heaved the alligator onto the docks, where it was met with cheers by the villagers. Even as Regina prepared to disembark, Facilier snapped his fingers. She felt the whoosh of magic as he cleaned them up and restored their clothes to pristine condition before they set foot back on dry land. She was the regal captain once more, and he the elegant magician. (But it was too late; she had already seen...)

Soon enough the scent of roasting alligator filled the village (dreamshade toxin was neutralized by cooking) and Regina and Facilier shared a table in the shade of a wooden pavilion. The hide and teeth of the monster were safely in Regina's possession... and the shiny red gem that her crew had dug out of the innards.

Regina toyed with the gem, noting how Facilier couldn't seem to look away. "A pretty thing. What is it? Why do you want it, and how did you lose it?"

He didn't answer at first. He would take it if he could, she thought, but perhaps this was one of those magical items that lost its potency if not freely given. Well, then. On a whim, she set the knowledge as her price.

"The Firefly Ruby. I... lent it to an employee, shall we say. And he carelessly walked into the jaws of that beast." Facilier held out his hand.

Regina let her fingers brush his palm as she lowered the ruby into his waiting grasp, but didn't release it yet. She felt the tension the sorcerer couldn't quite conceal. "And without it, you've been... diminished?"

Facilier's jaw tightened. "As you see. I am stuck with one foot in this world, and one in a less pleasant place."

"Mmm." She smiled, then opened her fingers and sat back.

"Ah." Facilier blinked, his breath coming out in a hiss. The ruby glowed through his clenched fist. And then a shadow seemed to descend upon him, a cold wind sweeping through the pavilion. Dark power filled the air.

Regina shuddered, fighting back instinctive terror at the presence of that darkness. Then it passed, and she was again sitting across a human man. The ruby had vanished from view.

But the cold remained, and the sky had darkened, split by a flash of lightning, followed by the sharp crack of thunder. The locals took it in stride as the clouds opened, water pouring down to turn the streets into rivers of mud. The ones caught in the open moved to take shelter under the eaves.

Regina caught her breath, waiting for her heart to stop racing. This was the weather here, she knew, perfectly natural. But the _timing_... coincidence? She said as calmly as she could, "At least it's not so blasted hot now."

Facilier smirked, refilling their cups with rum before lifting his in a sardonic toast. "Cheers."

* * *

Later, after the sun had set and the rain had stopped, there was torchlight, music, and dancing in the village plaza, a wooden platform raised above the mud. It was not like any of the court dances that Regina had never mastered, and when Facilier coaxed her onto the plaza, she hesitated.

"If I may have the honor, my lady?" He was close, too close, and he smelled of rum and smoke — scents almost strong enough to disguise the whiff of the grave underneath. But she knew.

Regina caught his gaze. She wasn't drunk enough to forget what he was, even as she couldn't help being drawn to the man she had glimpsed beneath the mask. She said softly, "Maybe not. I know how this goes."

"And how is that?"

"When a mortal dances with Death, the ending is always the same."

"Ah." Facilier stilled. "The ending is always the same, regardless. Why not enjoy the pleasure of the dance?"

And her heart beat faster once more. This time, it wasn't fear.

* * *

He gave her a necklace, afterwards. Fangs and ivory beads, charms carved by magic out of the vanquished beast.

"To remember me by," he said.

"Shall we not meet again?" she asked, almost wistfully.

He grinned, a flash of brilliance that took her breath away. "If you wish."

* * *

 _The calm before the storm._

Alice woke up screaming. Unable to leave the tower, her father did what he could to bring the world to her. Now, in a nightmare, the witch who had trapped her cast him brutally out of the tower, out of her life. "The witch is coming for me. It's real! You have to believe me!"

He did. Papa always believed her, which only made it worse when he left her with a promise to find a way to free her from the tower. A dark path, he told her, one last thing he could try.

She could tell that he was afraid, even though he tried to pretend he wasn't, and that made her afraid, too. What if something happened to him and he never came back?

"I swear I will return as soon as I can." He put the white knight from their chess set into her hand for comfort. To protect her when he could not.

In return, she handed him her own piece: the girl in the tower.

"My little rook." Papa always believed in her.

Gripping the knight, Alice did her best to believe in him. They would be together again soon.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin knew he was losing his mind. He could keep himself together briefly for Bae, whose presence quietened the voices in his head, but every year he remained here eroded more of his sanity.

The cell drained his magic. It was like living in a nest of leeches.

 _Leeches and rats!_ tittered the shadows. _Weak fool. Coward. You put your own neck on the headsman's block..._

In his darker hours, he hoped someone would bring the dagger to him...and slay the beast. But no. His son guarded it too well. The boy was full of love and loyalty.

 _Not loyal enough to free you!_ hissed the darkness.

 _He's keeping us safe_ , he retorted, pushing back his doubts.

 _He's in danger, and you can't save him from within this cage. Pathetic. Powerless. That's all you are. That's all that being 'good' has bought you._

 _I'll find a way._ And when the new visitor came, he thought he had found that way.

"Captain Hook!" The imp's giggles sounded unhinged even to himself. He forced himself to listen. To think. To make a _deal_.

"I guess it wasn't a trick," muttered the pirate. "You're really trapped here."

"Let's not talk about me," hissed Rumplestiltskin. "Tell me, what brings you here? Is that desperation I smell?" He sniffed dramatically. "Ah! My speciality..."

Hook had a daughter. A daughter trapped in a tower, threatened by a witch.

Gothel.

 _Gothel, Gothel — Mother Gothel. A witch by name, a bitch by nature, cultivating a child only to hate her_ , chanted the voices in the dark. He fought to see past the chaos in his mind. What was needed? Would he be heeded? "There is something! A magic weapon to shatter any prison."

Any prison. Both their prisons.

 _Bae, I can save you_. If Captain Hook held up his end of the deal. The imp spoke as clearly as he could, pointing his former nemesis to Captain Ahab — and Maui's Fishhook. Then he could only wait, and hope for the best.

Hook returned, magic weapon in hand. Closer, closer, beckoned the imp. And then—

Disaster. Ahab didn't let go of his treasures so easily. His taunts turned Hook back, away, a distraction.

 _Damn that buzzing fly!_ Despite the imp's entreaties to Hook, Ahab's jabs hit home, a harpoon straight to Hook's pride. Gone soft? The captain and the crocodile working together? No no, he could never admit to _that_ , could he? "Don't listen."

But Hook had already let Ahab in his head.

Rumplestiltskin watched helplessly, his words ignored, as Ahab reeled Hook in. A duel! A public duel, man to man. Pistols at dawn.

 _You'll both lose everything_ , sneered the voices. _A man who gives up power deserves what he gets. You've always been weak, always will be. Too scared to do what it takes to save the ones you love._

"No!"

But Hook was stubborn, as stubborn as Bae. He didn't want the Dark One's help, not for this, not when he had something to prove.

"No..." Rumplestiltskin beat futilely at the bars. Hook had gone. Visions flashed before him, showing him. _He won't come back. This was your chance, and you've wasted it..._

* * *

This was going to be one of the bad days. Alice felt it as soon as she woke up. She spent the rest of the day at her easel, trying to paint away her misgivings. When night fell, her father climbed in the window. "Papa! I was starting to worry."

"There's no need to worry, Starfish." He showed her the magic fishhook that could free her from the tower. But even as she stood up to hug him, her joy turned to horror as magic seized him and threw him into the wall.

 _A bad day._

...and the witch was there, just as in Alice's nightmare, gloating. The mark of Gothel's curse burned onto the girl's wrist, pulsed green in her father's heart.

"No less than you deserve," proclaimed Gothel. Because Papa had broken his promise. He hadn't come straight back; his pride had been more important to him than his daughter — he had risked everything in a duel of honor. And that had been enough for the witch to poison him.

 _The Curse of the Poisoned Heart._ It meant that Alice and her father could never be near each other again.

"Papa!"

The witch banished him with a wave of her hand. "He will fail you again and again. He'll become nothing but a broken-down old drunk in a tavern far from here. Someone better forgotten."

"No..." whispered Alice, but she was speaking to empty air. She was alone in the tower again. Her hand slipped numbly into a pocket, her fingers curling around the chess piece that her father had given her. "Please, Papa. What do I do now?"

* * *

Elsewhere, another parent did not fail her child. She risked everything to acquire the cure for her dying husband, even breaking into a witch's garden. Caught, she declared her willingness to pay any price to save her family.

Thus Rapunzel passed Gothel's test, but passing the test carried its own price.

"The seed of your redemption," was all that Gothel would say when she took her due. The witch's spell took root in Rapunzel, changing flesh and blood and bone to leaf and sap and wood.

A new tree grew in Gothel's garden.

* * *

"Papa, this is Emma," said Bae.

"Emma!" Rumplestiltskin squealed, startling the girl into ducking back behind Baelfire. The imp forced himself to calm and a semblance of civility. "Emma. What a lovely name."

 _Emma Emma Emma... Swan Princess... Savior once, Savior never, Savior forever!_ shrieked the voices in his head.

"Dark One," stammered the girl. She turned to Bae, not letting go of his hands. "Is he...he's... really your... father?"

"He is," Bae said tightly, not taking his eyes off Rumplestiltskin.

Rumplestiltskin nodded, gripping the bars and goggling at the princess. Bae had told him about her, but this was more than _telling_. This was _serious_. Could he mean...? "Yes, your highness, it's all true! Sir Baelfire is Rumplestiltskin's son. Tell me, princess, what brings you to see the beast?"

"I... he said..." Emma's voice trailed off and she swallowed.

"Papa, we're... I asked, and she said yes. But if we're to be together, she has to know what... what she's..."

"You're getting married?" And to Princess Emma, of all people! Rumplestiltskin bit back the jumble of demented prophecies that threatened to spill from his mouth. _No, no, she's so young, Bae. What have you done? But love is love and love will have its way..._ and he could see it between them, the way they stood, the way their eyes went to each other, in every wary tone of Baelfire's voice.

Emma stepped softly closer. And another step. Wide-eyed, she said, "I love him. So do you. He said."

"Yes." He stared back. _An ally. If she loves him, she will want to save him..._

"But you've been here for... years?"

"Since before your birth, your highness."

"And in all that time... no one knew who you were?"

"I'm a monster, dearie. What else is there to know?"

"We're to be married in three days," said Emma. She turned to Bae, her face troubled. "And he won't be there. Not unless... we can ask my parents for his release."

"They wouldn't agree. He's 'too dangerous'," Bae said, and Rumplestiltskin wondered if he had asked — hinted — at it before to the royals, despite his father's cautions. "A 'scourge'. A dark power that must be contained. Just ask your fairy godmother."

"But if he's your _father_..."

"If I pressed the point, do you think your parents would let me anywhere near you again?" Bae shook his head.

"But..."

"No, Emma, they can't know, not yet. But I have a plan." And then he turned to Rumplestiltskin. "It's our second chance, Papa."

Ogres.

The ogres had returned, ravaging all in their path as they poured into the kingdom.

And as Bae spoke, the visions slid into place in Rumplestiltskin's head. _No. No, no, no, no... not like this, son._ Frantic to stop him, save him, protect him, the imp babbled his protests. "No, Bae, you can't! Let me out! Princess, if you love him, if you want him to live, you must go to your parents. Tell them! I can protect your kingdom. I can save my son..."

But his son had his own vision. "Don't you see? I'm not a child anymore. I can fight, this time. Our army is well-trained, honorable. Lancelot isn't Hordor, and Snow White isn't the Duke of the Frontlands."

"Bae, it isn't enough," pleaded Rumplestiltskin. "Not against the ogres. You need a monster to defeat the monsters."

"No, Papa. You just think we do. I know we can beat the ogres _without_ magic, light or dark. And once I've proved myself, no one can doubt my loyalties, and they'll owe me that much — I'll ask for your freedom then...

"Bae, no. Please, let me help you, just this once. Just tell Snow White and Charming... they've dealt with me before. They can do it again..."

"Papa, I can do it. I know I can. Please, trust me. You abandoned me once because you thought you couldn't live without magic. Let me prove that we can. That we don't need it. You don't need to be the Dark One."

Rumplestiltskin turned his appeals to Emma, but it was futile. She loved Baelfire and had complete faith in him. Foolish, naive faith, but utterly steadfast.

The imp wept in dismay as his son left. He saw fragments of a wedding, of a knight riding out to battle.

The human army won. Sir Baelfire distinguished himself in strategy and in courage.

It wasn't enough to save him.

"Bae!"

No one heard Rumplestiltskin's pain. No one cared. Until—

"Bring him back!" The princess, her faith shattered, came too close. "He's your son. Use your magic. Whatever it costs..."

The imp's claws closed around her neck. "Dead is dead, dearie!" He laughed, the sound horrible even in his own ears, but he was lost in grief and rage. "You could have... should have let me out. It's your fault!" _It's your fault, coward._ "You wouldn't listen, no, no, you wouldn't, and now it's too late."

 _Too late. Too late, too late, too late, he's dead. Dead dead dead!_ He screamed out against the cacophony filling his mind, his fingers tightening. He would have her life. Let his son have company in the underworld.

The princess choked, gasped, fingers prying at the vise around her neck even as she twisted backwards, away from the cell. "No... please... you'll kill... your grandchild..."

"What!?" Rumplestiltskin's hand sprang free and he staggered back. "What did you say?"

He stared in disbelief as Emma smoothed her dress over her belly.

 _Grandchild?_

"Go!" Rumplestiltskin straightened, his voice rising to a near-hysterical shout. "Get out! Get out!"

He heard footsteps running away, but darkness blurred his vision and he didn't see her go. He turned his back to the world, punching the wall until his knuckles bled.

Later.

The princess never returned. The imp looked for her in his seer's visions, but a veil of blue came between them and he caught only glimpses. But he could guess. A royal daughter, heavy and sleepless with grief. A fairy godmother offering such comfort as she might — a draught to help against the nightmares. And what better aid than a potion to take away the memories that only caused pain?

A portrait of a hero was simpler; the princess's baby would have no messy ties to imps in secret prisons.

Rumplestiltskin bore his grief alone. His son was dead, and his grandchild would never know him. _Bae, I'm so sorry. I should have been there for you._


	5. The Chariot

**Author's notes:** I'm not sure how canonical "Once Upon a Time in Wonderland" is with respect to OUAT anymore, but it definitely isn't for purposes of the AU in this story. Let's say Wish!Will and Wish!Ana did go to Wonderland before the first Curse. Ana became the Red Queen, but then Wish!Cora killed and replaced her. Cora outsmarted and defeated Jafar, with Will dying as part of the collateral damage. As in s7, there is a Jabberwock (more or less the same creature as the "Jabberwocky" in OUATIW). Cyrus and his brothers are SOL. There's no OUATIW!Alice, only the s7!Alice.

Also, Ella is Marcus's bio daughter in my version.

* * *

 _The Chariot tarot card, usually numbered as the 7th Major Arcana, depicts a yellow Volkswagen Beetle (aka the "Bug") being driven by a savior figure. It is said to signify decision-making, focus, and determination. In other words: take the wheel, we're on the move! (But keep your eyes on the road...)_

* * *

Her father had given her a spyglass, but he couldn't give her a different window. Alice peered out at the trees and the sky — the same trees and the same sky all her life.

"Today's my birthday."

Seventeen years in the tower with no friends except her toys and paintings and the stars in the sky made for a lonely existence, but Alice was a cheerful girl well-practiced in the art of one-sided conversations. She tried not to miss her papa too much, but it was hard, especially on days like this. Candles and cakes and birthday presents were meant to be shared.

Well, then. She shifted her voice and intoned, "A happy birthday to you!"

And here she was talking to, or for, a hat. The tower's magic provided her with food, shelter, clothing — whatever she needed to live. Before he had left her, her father had brought her books and toys in lieu of the world. The tower was cluttered with everything from globes to stuffed animals to star charts to beautifully illustrated bestiaries. When she was a baby, he read the books aloud to her. Later, she read them to him. Now she had no one to read to except herself and her imaginary friends.

 _The tower listened. It dreamed with Alice of the great wide world and yearned for legs. Freedom. But magic tied it here, stone rooted in stone. It had been created to be a prison. It had no power to release its prisoner; all it could offer was a candle on a cupcake..._

Another year, another wish. The wish was the same as ever. But the girl...? Alice closed her eyes and blew out the flame. Stone shivered with the force of the wish. Magic _twisted_.

Thud.

Thump.

Tea cups rattled on the table. Alice's eyes blinked open, went wide.

Rumble.

 _Roar._

The top of the tower cracked open, the walls gone as thin as eggshells. An enormous, stone-hued face peered down at the girl. Then a gigantic hand descended, palm up, fingers open — beckoning.

Alice's jaw dropped.

 _Friend?_

* * *

The world was bright, loud, and altogether overwhelming.

It hadn't been so bad at first. Alice had spotted the market town and called out eagerly, "Look! Houses, just like in Papa's books. That means people and cows and chickens and blacksmiths and brewers... isn't it wonderful?"

The giant troll creature had only gazed at her with a quizzical expression, then set Alice down at the edge of the fields. Though mute, it treated her with gentle care and smiled when Alice waved her farewell.

"Thank you, my friend." Alice followed the road into town, and that was when the noise and the smell hit her, and the walls pressed closer and closer and when she thought to duck into what she guessed to be a tavern and buy a drink (wasn't that what one did in taverns?) there were so many people and were they all _looking at her?_ and they were all _strangers_ and...

 _Don't look at me!_ And she felt herself shrinking into the wall as if she were just another piece of furniture. Maybe the tea table or the hammock, or the wooden wardrobe in her tower room.

It helped. A bit. But as she stared out at the hustle and bustle of the common room, her heart pounded in her chest and she didn't think she could cope with _so many people_ but this was what she wanted, wasn't she? To be out here just like everyone else. She couldn't turn tail and run now, no matter that she felt like a mouse hiding from the owl.

Thud.

Thump.

Rattle.

Rumble.

 _Roar!_

The screams weren't just in her head anymore. Alice clapped her hands over her ears and sank against the wall. The wall that was breaking.

"Monster!"

"Run!"

Another building cracked open like an egg — a giant hand dipped inside — and Alice found herself scooped up again. Then a jagged, dizzying run across town and into the countryside.

Rumors flew wild ahead of them. After that, everywhere they went, they were greeted with torches, spears, arrows, nets... and cries of "monster!"

"The troll is my friend," Alice tried to explain. "Stop saying he's a monster! He'd never hurt anyone, unlike you."

"Crazy girl. Lock her up!"

The troll broke the cage as easily as he had broken the tower. (She remembered crumbling foundations, stones tumbled haphazardly on the forest floor.) They took refuge in the forest, long trollish legs covering ground rapidly to bring them to a quiet clearing far from any human settlements (and hunters).

The moonlight transformed trees and brush into a bleached otherworld of looming shapes and elongated shadows. They intersected oddly, catching Alice's eye — that one there, didn't it look _just_ like a door? And that would be the handle. She reached out and pulled on it.

The door opened in a blaze of argent. Shielding her eyes with an arm, Alice stepped across the threshold...

* * *

 _Pathetic weakling. Look at you. Useless. You've failed everyone you ever loved. It doesn't matter how much power you hoard — everything that matters slips through your fingers._

The imp whimpered, scraping his claws against the floor in another futile attempt to keep out the mocking voices of the darkness. Baelfire was dead, and it was his fault. It was all his fault. He was poison to the ones he loved. Whether he killed them by his own hand, drove them to their deaths, or failed to protect them—

 _Die. Curl up and die, that's all you're good for._

He lay on the cold stone, eyes shut, awash in guilt, having no more energy to move. He had lain there for hours. Days. Longer. He knew that death was no more than he deserved, but he clung stubbornly to what remained of his life. Because... because...

 _You're too much of a coward even for that. A clean end... wouldn't that be better than wasting away in this lightless pit, abandoned to the last?_

No. Because... because Rumplestiltskin could die, but the Dark One was immortal.

 _Yessss,_ hissed the darkness. _Lay down the burden of your wretched existence. Why prolong this suffering?_ The voice changed, calling up a face seared into Rumplestiltskin's memory: his predecessor — _Zoso._

Zoso had _laughed_ , his expression one of joy and relief after Rumplestiltskin had stabbed him, freeing his soul from the Dark One's dagger.

 _It was the quickest way,_ whispered Zoso's voice. _But not the only one. All you have to do is to... let go. Can you feel it? Your name, wiped away, letter by letter._

And when nothing was left, when Rumplestiltskin was no more, the Dark One would be freed of the constraints of flesh and soul. Zoso had taken a blade through the heart rather than allow that. Rumplestiltskin remembered the man beneath the monster, the remnant of humanity the Darkness preferred to forget — the humanity that refused to allow the curse free rein.

 _Zoso cheated us for a time, but not forever. You're alone here. There will be no convenient mortal to sacrifice, this time. Darkness will be unbound._

"Still... held by these bars," mumbled the imp. The cell was infused with enough fairy dust to keep the Darkness in check.

 _Until someone comes in reach. Remember the sweet little princess? Perhaps..._

"No... she's... forgotten." Rumplestiltskin managed a weak chuckle. No wonder the Blue Fairy had taken such pains to isolate him. She guessed — knew — that no mortal could endure the Darkness forever.

 _The end is inevitable,_ agreed the Darkness. _And someday, someone will stumble in here — if not the princess, then someone else. That, too, is inevitable_.

Rumplestiltskin knew it was true. No matter the protestations of the light, darkness was too useful. Desperate souls could never resist dealing with the Dark One. And he knew how much that deal would cost the world.

 _What does it matter to you? The world cares nothing for you; why should you care for the world?_

Why indeed? He was tired, so tired. His soul was dust. Life held nothing more for him — not now, and not in the years to come — death would be a release.

 _Let go,_ coaxed the Darkness. _Perhaps you will meet him again in the Underworld — your son._

 _Bae!_ Rumplestiltskin's heart clenched. No, Bae would be ashamed of him. His son was bright and brave, everything good, and he would never forgive his father for betraying his sacrifice. Bae had died to protect the future—

"His child," croaked the imp. Bae had wanted a future where children could grow up without needing to call upon dark magic. A future without the Dark One destroying their every chance of happiness. "His choice."

 _A fool's choice. Do you think you're a hero, wrestling evil in noble isolation? You're nothing but a miserable little worm squirming in a dank hole._ The Darkness showed him a grotesque image of himself, twisted and helpless on the floor. _Rotted through with darkness, an empty shell clinging to a name — a name reviled by all._

Rumplestiltskin cried out inarticulately. He pressed his fists against his eyes, forcing himself to see past the darkness. He couldn't deny the truth of his fundamental unworth, but it didn't matter. He _was_ a coward, but he couldn't surrender to the Darkness when—

 _Henry._

Another fragment came clear. The child was a boy. Bae had a son — Rumplestiltskin's grandson.

 _Another son abandoned by his father,_ jeered the Darkness. _A family tradition._

No. Rumplestiltskin clenched his fists, keeping his inner vision focused on the newborn infant, snatching at images from the future — the child _had_ a future. He had a mother who loved him. The images soon flickered and vanished, but the memories remained — a slender thread of hope on which to hang a life.

It would have to suffice.

* * *

A tree's memory was not that of a human, yet Rapunzel did not forget her family. She was suffused with a slow, wordless longing with no means to express it. Not at first.

It was a different existence, being rooted. She lived on a slower scale, in a single place, while the world washed over her. Light, dark, heat, cold — days and seasons marked time's passage rather than the frantic pulse she was born to. In that stillness, Rapunzel learned to hear the music of the garden — almost an alien language. She sang a new song — a song of escape, of evasion, in the way of the green.

Without legs, she discovered motion in growth. Like a creeping vine. Like a tree split by a storm only to find rebirth in a side shoot. She left herself behind, found herself free.

After six years as a tree, the human form was a shock. But she recovered quickly and fled the garden, thankful that the witch was nowhere in sight. She sought out her family...

...only to find them as much changed as she was. Her husband, her two daughters — they lived in luxury, in a manor finer than Rapunzel ever dared dream of. Luxury she had no part in.

"This is my wife, Cecelia." Marcus gave Rapunzel a pleading look, begging her to understand, to love her replacement. "And our daughter, Ella."

Rapunzel swallowed her resentment. She had to think of her daughters. Never mind that she had become a stranger to them, no more than a servant or a barely-tolerated guest. Anastasia, the older girl, tried her best; Drizella, too young to remember Rapunzel — didn't.

She was losing them. They lived with Marcus and Cecilia — they didn't need another mother, even though Rapunzel had sacrificed six years to buy their happiness.

Marcus was grateful, but gratitude didn't change anything. He kept her old cloak, and mended it — but there was no mending lost love. "I have to go."

Back to Cecilia, he meant. Rapunzel was here on sufferance. She bit back a sob.

"You're too strong for tears." It was the witch.

 _Gothel_. A flare of hatred straightened Rapunzel's back. But Gothel only smiled enigmatically at her. It had all been a test. Was there a pure heart in any human born? The witch offered a mushroom from Wonderland. Magic, it was: a few drops in Cecelia's drink would drive her away forever.

Rapunzel flung the gift into the fire. "Cecelia's an innocent in this." Rapunzel didn't want to hurt her (a lie). She wasn't that person (she refused to be.)

Gothel chuckled knowingly. A twist of her hand, and the accursed mushroom was back. Then she was gone, leaving Rapunzel with the choice.

"No. I won't. I'm not that person."

But who was she, then? When Drizella called Cecelia "Mother", who could Rapunzel be? Everything she had sacrificed, it meant as little to her daughter as the birthday gift she didn't even smile for. Love turned to ashes. It was all for nothing. She had lost her family after all, to this... this interloper.

No. She refused to accept it. Not when she had the power to change things.

 _You can make her go away. You can have your family back._

Innocent? Cecelia was innocent and didn't deserve to suffer? Well, what had Rapunzel done to deserve this suffering? Rapunzel had paid the price for her family's happiness — didn't she deserve to share in it? If Cecelia wanted more, let her pay for it herself!

A few drops. That was all it took.

* * *

Alice's adventures took her across the realms, over the rainbow and under the hills and through enchanted glass. She became better at mingling with other people, however strange they seemed (or was she the strange one, after all?) and taking it all in stride. Still, there was a hole in her heart that had never closed.

"Papa, I will find a way for us to be together," she told her little wooden knight piece. She had a name for their curse, now, and an origin. "The Curse of the Poisoned Heart came from a realm called 'Wonderland.' It only stands to reason that the cure must come from there, too."

And now she was here, sneaking through brightly colored landscapes filled with tilted words and dangerous games, seeking a heart's balm from a queen who had more hearts than any other. They called her the Red Queen, but words failed to conceal what time and habit revealed — the Queen of Hearts remasked.

Alice slid into the palace, a wisp of smoke, a soon forgotten mirage — who was that? Just another servant girl. No one of importance — and past locked doors (she had broken out of a tower a thousand times more tightly sealed) into the queen's secret vaults.

"Come on, come on, show yourself," she muttered as she rummaged through cabinets and drawers, leaning over to sniff at vials of potion and boxes of dust. "I know you must be here. A tincture, aye? An ointment. A mixture. The solution!"

"Oh, child, if only it were that simple." The voice came from behind her, maternal, sympathetic.

Alice yelped and spun to her feet. "Your majesty!"

An invisible force froze her in place. The queen stalked forward — slow, regal, infinite in her malice. "What do you think you're doing here?"

Alice moved her tongue experimentally. Not completely frozen, then. "Admiring your collection? It's very good, isn't it? Best in the land, I've heard."

The queen narrowed her eyes. "Hearing is one thing. Admiring is another. But _intruding_ and _stealing_ , now, that won't do at all, my dear."

Alice tried a jaunty grin and tilt of her head, offering an uncontrite "Sorry?"

The queen shook her head. Dark magic flowed into her hand as she thrust it straight into Alice's chest.

Alice gasped, shutting her eyes as tears of pain blinded her. She felt ice clamp her heart. She needed... she needed...

 _Imagine a flame._

The queen's hand tightened around her heart. "Who are you, girl?"

The flame wavered. Such a small thing, a candle on a cake made for one. She _wished._

The flame flickered, flew loose. It leapt onto the queen's hand, following her touch back, back to its origin. If the queen touched Alice's heart, then in that moment, Alice touched the queen's heart as well. Magic shifted, twisted _,_ manifested itself. Magic shaped into eagle and lion. Talons, beak, and wings filled the room with the Gryphon.

Alice blinked, and it was the eagle's eyes she saw through, the lion's voice she borrowed. "Who are _you_?"

A tufted tail caressed the queen's cheek, held her motionless. She stared, unable to answer, and Alice wondered what she saw.

 _Oh, I have a bad feeling about this._ Perhaps she should disentangle herself, before—

Then the eagle spoke, its beak lowered to the queen's ear. And at its first whispered words, Alice screamed to keep herself from hearing, tearing herself free to rush from the vaults. From the palace.

There was no _solution_ there. Only more puzzles, puzzles to rip your mind apart with truths that should never be believed.

"I'm real. I am! I'm real!" she shouted, to the bemusement of courtiers, who only saw a servant run mad, and the bewilderment of the servants and guards, who only saw an unfortunate lunatic beggar. Good bye and good riddance, that was all.

* * *

The Infinite Maze held many things, just not the antidote to Gothel's poison. Alice, exhausted from her search, stopped at the eternal tea party laid out inside the walls of enchanted hedge. All the chairs were empty, so she plopped herself down at the head of the table, because that chair was fancier than the rest, allowing her to lean back and swivel around.

It wasn't long before another lost soul stumbled into the party. The woman, well-dressed and a few years older than Alice, introduced herself as Cecilia. Drawn in by the illusion of normalcy, Cecilia took a seat two chairs down from Alice.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Alice lifted the pot to pour, the sleeve falling back to reveal the mark on her wrist.

"I... I've seen that mark before." Cecilia had turned pale. She clutched the silver locket around her neck and stared at Alice.

Alice glanced at Cecilia's wrists in turn. Finding them unmarked, she responded with a crooked smile. "On someone you love? Let me guess, when they touched you..."

Cecilia swallowed, nodded. Her voice came in a whisper, "My husband."

"Ah. Have some tea. Maybe it will help you. Didn't really help me, but you never know."

Cecilia released her locket and accepted the tea, sipping it in silence.

"If you're looking for the cure, don't bother with the Red Queen," advised Alice. "I've already been. Not fun, I'll tell you that. _She_ won't offer you tea."

Cecilia sagged. "Oh. I heard she was a powerful sorceress, so I thought..."

Alice shook her head. "You'll get no help from her majesty."

No one would get anything at all from the queen, according to rumor. She had not been seen in public in the three weeks since Alice had fled the palace.

 _What was the secret the Gryphon whispered in her ear?_

 _Who are you?_ had been the question. As for the answer? Alice shuddered. Some things were better left unthought. But she had already thought it, and the thought made her afraid. Fear left its own scent in the air, a trail that could be followed by—

"The Jabberwock!" Alice recognized her at once from the illustration in her bestiary. Deadly, magical, fed by fear and able to sniff it out in the minds of her prey.

The woman — the monster — smiled her sly smile as she emerged from the maze and joined the tea party, slinking behind their chairs as she hissed a greeting. "Hello, darlings..."

"Leave us alone," pleaded Cecilia thinly.

Alice longed to stand, to fight, but terror had turned her bones to water. "No. No, no, no... what did it say, the sword... the snicker-snack, the vorpal sword..." She shut her eyes, trying to remember what she had read. Nothing of use, that was what. She opened her eyes again. "Oi! You. Stop that!"

The Jabberwock winked at Alice, as if to say, _Wait your turn._ The monster's hands slid down Cecilia's shoulders, holding her paralyzed in her terror. "Now, what are you afraid of, hmm?" She licked her lips. "I think... you fear never seeing them again. Your Marcus. Little Ella. You're afraid they'll never see you again, that they'll think you abandoned them..."

Alice half-stumbled, half-leaped out of her chair, then picked it up and hurled it at the Jabberwock.

The Jabberwock chuckled, a flick of her fingers exploding the chair into a blinding swirl of splinters. "Mmm. What else do you fear?"

"Don't answer!" Alice brushed splinters out of her face, but by the time her vision cleared, it was too late for Cecilia.

The Jabberwock kicked the lifeless body aside and advanced on Alice. "What about you, child? What is it you fear?"

Alice stared, mesmerized by the serpent gaze. Her deepest anxieties stirred, rising up to engulf her... "N-no. Get out of my head!"

Fingernails like claws traced the line of her jaw, silencing Alice. The Jabberwock held her gaze. "Delicioussss... it's more than the obvious fear about losing your dear papa, no, there's something deeper. Ahhhh..."

Alice couldn't move, couldn't even think about fighting back, as the monster dug its claws into her mind, forced her to listen to—

 _The Gryphon's secret._

No!

Thud.

Thump.

Rattle.

Rumble.

 _Roar!_

Giant hands wrapped themselves around Alice, but this time, instead of taking her away somewhere safe (nowhere was safe)...

...it sent her back, sent her inside. Inside stone. Fearless, obdurate stone that held no sustenance for the Jabberwock. Into stone they went, the troll and Alice, and inside stone they remained.

* * *

How hard could it be to find a bloody stone tower in the middle of the woods? Yet it eluded him, had eluded him ever since Gothel had cast him out. Hook groaned, clutching his chest to push back the weight that seemed to hammer his heart whenever he thought about his daughter. Damn all witches and their curses! With no magic, he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

The Crocodile had magic a-plenty, of course, but Hook knew he had ruined his chances of any help from that quarter. He had broken a deal with the Dark One, and he couldn't risk paying the price if he ever returned there. Nothing left for Captain Hook but to drown his sorrows in a bottle of rum. And another. And another...

By now, with no ship in sight, 'Captain' was no more than a mocking epithet. He was not a pirate anymore. He was old, fat, and drunk. He took whatever odd jobs were available to the one-handed, and gambled away what he didn't drink. He said as much to his latest 'friend' at the tavern. "Look at me. Who am I? It was so... so important to me, but 's all gone now. Can't even 'member why."

His companion shrugged, rolling the dice before answering, "Tough luck, mate." He started to scoop up his winnings, but Hook stopped him.

"One more round. Double or nothing." Hook jingled the last of his coins temptingly.

The other frowned. "Well..."

"What, can't take a chance? You a coward, then?" Hook scoffed bitterly. "Hate cowards. Can't stand 'em."

"Say that again." The other man glared, slamming down his own fistful of coin.

Hook grinned, picking up the dice.

He left with nothing, not even the warmth of the tavern as he was evicted soon after. Having no money left to buy shelter from the pouring rain, he broke into a disused shed for the night. He curled up in a corner, wrapping old sacks around himself for warmth, cursing his bad luck.

Nay, not luck, his own foolishness in throwing his earnings away for a cheap thrill. For a few brief hours, it had taken him back to better days in better taverns, with his crew around him. With Milah at his side. But thinking of Milah only brought unwelcome images of the Crocodile to mind.

The damn Crocodile wouldn't have gambled away his last coins. Even when he had been an ordinary mortal, he had been the sober one, the responsible one, the one who came to fetch his wife home... and Hook had despised him for it. Stupid. Behind that meekness had been a man devoted to his family, a man capable of swallowing a thousand insults if it would keep his son safe. Hook had mistaken it for weakness.

"All these years I've called him a coward, but it turns out I was the coward after all," he muttered bitterly. Afraid of losing his name, his honor, his hard-won reputation. All for nothing. "It cost me my daughter. Oh, Starfish, I'm afraid your papa's let you down again..." He fumbled for the chess piece in his pocket, wrapping his fingers around it. "But it's been so long, and I don't know where else to look." Then he sighed. "Fate willing, you still live."

She had to be alive, his Alice. He pressed the wooden rook to his lips, praying to the heavens to keep her safe. Damn that bitch Gothel, who called herself 'Mother' but treated her own flesh and blood so abominably. If he ever ran across her again...

He would tear her heart out with his hook.

 _Just like the Crocodile had done to Milah._

Hook sat up abruptly, biting off a curse. He was nothing like the Crocodile, just as Milah was nothing like Gothel. But the uncomfortable twinge of empathy persisted. Their children had both been abandoned by their mothers — that was the long and short of it. And even more reluctantly, Hook admitted to himself that he was more fortunate than his nemesis: he still had a chance of reuniting with his daughter.

Everyone had heard the stories of Sir Baelfire's heroic sacrifice, saving his kingdom from the ogres. A death that any true man might envy, thought Hook. How had the coward raised a son capable of such bravery?

"Not such a coward, then," mumbled Hook. "You were a good father, I know that now. Milah deserved better, but..." He sighed again. The Crocodile had searched for his son for hundreds of years; Captain Hook could do no less.

Tomorrow, then, in the sober light of day, he would resume his quest. He pressed a hand to his chest over his heart. He vowed anew to find a way to free them of the curse.

 _Hang on, Starfish. Your papa hasn't forgotten you._


	6. Death - Hast einst den Tanz versprochen?

**Author's notes:** Facilier: since he was killed off in canon so abruptly before we got to know much about him, I'm taking some liberties with his story. I'm assuming that in the original reality, he and Regina never met, so when the Dark Curse hit the first time, he wasn't affected and never crossed to Storybrooke.

Castles: What castle was Regina staying in right before the first Dark Curse? Not the one that was King Leopold's, since that was the one she was exiled from. Not the one that was King George's, since that would make no sense. For the purposes of my story, I'll assume she got an Instant Magic Castle Kit (TM) from Mordenkainen's catalog (he of "Mordenkainen's Magnificent Mansion" fame) and cast it on some ruined keep. The magic castle is magic, and comes with failsafes, which is why no one noticed the tower where Wish!Belle was imprisoned. Regina only let Hook in because he was pretty and she was curious to see what he was after.

Hansel and Gretel: I've tweaked their relative ages so that Gretel is a couple of years older than Hansel.

Title quote: "Hast du mir einst den Tanz versprochen?" (orig. "Hast einst mir den Tanz versprochen") is from a poem by Heinrich Heine, by way of the musical version by Die Streuner. "You once promised me the dance", says the ghostly lover to the maiden, and you broke your word.

* * *

 _The Death tarot card, usually numbered as the thirteenth Major Arcana, depicts the grim reaper: sometimes a black-armored herald on a white horse, sometimes a skeleton with a scythe. Your prayers and appeals are to no avail — death comes for all alike. It is said to signify inevitable change, a severance of the past, the end of one life and the beginning of another._

* * *

The tavern was a dive, but it was the closest one to the pier where the _Malus_ was docked. Regina strode imperiously to the bar, the sharp sweep of her alligator-hide coat fending off the drunk and the curious. At her order, the bartender poured two glasses of rum. Regina carried them to a table, where instead of drinking, she plucked a bag from her coat and poured out a pile of wood ash. She dipped her finger in the ash and drew the rectangle of a bier, topped by a cross, flanked by a coffin on either side. Once the pattern was complete, she set one of the glasses on top of the cross.

She lifted the other glass in a toast. "To... us!"

The first glass clinked against her own in answer. "To us!"

And Facilier was there, smiling wickedly at her. "To twenty years of our... acquaintance."

"To the day." Regina emptied her glass, closing her eyes for a moment. "You remember?"

"Of course, _ma chérie_ ," he said, his tone conveying far more than mere 'acquaintance'. "But twenty years calls for something special. Something better than a dockside drinking hole."

"You have somewhere in mind?"

"Indeed."

Magic flung them across the realms. She gasped, the distance a vast emptiness that made her head spin.

Facilier caught her as they fell out of the void, his arms steadying her.

Regina opened her eyes to find herself on the roof of a squat, round tower. The ground around her feet was littered with ancient skeletons. As long as enough of the stones were intact, as long as a few bones remained, he had a magical affinity for such places where the dead were laid to rest, no matter how old or abandoned the site.

"The tower of silence on the outskirts of lost Karakzha," Facilier murmured in her ear. He guided her to the stairs, the cracked and crumbling stones gaining solidity with each step. "Once visited by merchants from all the quarters of the realm, the city is long forgotten."

"I've never heard of it," Regina admitted. The breeze that chilled her skin was dry, smelling faintly of sand.

"No, I expect not," he said softly. "Come, our mounts await."

Regina had not owned a horse since she had sacrificed her favorite steed in her attempt to cast the Dark Curse. Nowadays she spent more time on a ship than a horse, but she rarely passed up a chance for riding. The two grays standing at the base of the tower were not horses: their eyes were lit by flames and their hooves smoked where they struck the ground. Their gaits were smooth, sure-footed where a real horse might stumble in the moonlit night.

As they rode on a dusty road around the shores of a dry lake, Facilier told more tales of the lost city. "The lake was fed by a water spirit captured in the mountains. Her power founded the city and made a commoner a king."

Regina nodded, reminded of her mother, and wondered whether this king had been as villainous in his ambition.

"She was held here for two hundred years, until a young prince made the mistake of falling in love with her." Facilier turned his head, flashing a sly grin at Regina.

"Hmmph." Was he warning her? She knew enough to guard her heart; she enjoyed his company, and why should she not?

Facilier chuckled, then continued, "Now the water spirit is gone and the lake bed dry. The city was taken by the shifting sands. Once a century, a freak storm uncovers the ruins. We have three days until these streets are buried again."

As they rode through the ruins, Regina caught glimpses of the old city in all its glory, ghostly mirages summoned by Facilier's sorcery. He led them to the gates of the royal palace. For this night, they were the king and queen of lost Karakzha.

Regina smiled at the thought, but her smile turned wry when she left a dirty footprint on the glistening floor and she remembered that she still wore her adventurer's rough garb, and that she hadn't had a real bath in weeks. She had intended to invite Facilier to join her at a bath house, but now...

"What is it, _ma chérie_?"

"I don't suppose your magic extends to refilling the lake so I can wash up properly?" Regina raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"But of course."

The king's bathtub, restored, was a shallow pool some fifteen feet across. A swirl of enchantment swept the tiles clean. Facilier ran his fingers over the pipes that fed the pool. "Servants once pumped in hot water scented with rose petals." He gestured. "Those pots once held the finest bath salts." As he spoke, air became water and steam.

"Decadent. I like it." Regina eased off her coat and draped it over a wooden rack. "The Enchanted Forest never had such amenities, not even my old castle."

Facilier smirked. He touched her lightly. "May I?" At her nod, he finished undressing her, his hands warm and deft. His fingers lingered on her skin. "Your majesty. Shall we?"

The water was shocking in its heat. But the discomfort was soon forgotten as Facilier joined her in the pool, and 'bathing' went beyond a mere soak. They ended in what must once have been the king's bedchamber, tangled in furs and silken sheets. Lost in the throes of passion, Regina had not noticed the transport spell.

Now she broke away from a kiss to regard their surroundings. Then she huffed in amusement. "We're going to need another bath."

Facilier smoothed away the stray hairs stuck to her forehead. "Never mind that. Let me show you the dining room, first."

He had gone all-out in his conjuration tonight; Regina was touched by the effort. The food was unfamiliar to her: lamb flavored with cumin, beef on skewers, hot flat bread, a sweet dish of dried fruit mixed with rice, a vegetable stew, accompanied by black tea and grape wine.

It was only later, when she woke up with his arm curled around her, that she heard the silence behind the faint crackle of the fire. There had been no other nobles to share the feast, no bustle of servants to carry the platters. And now the wind outside the walls had stilled, leaving not even the sound of insects or frogs behind.

 _A ghost city._

Regina closed her eyes, listening. She couldn't even hear Facilier breathing beside her. Only the weight of his arm and the warmth of his body reassured her that he was here, not another ghost.

 _He remembers it as it was, alive. How old is he, really?_

And what could she be to him, in the end? When the world had forgotten her, would he remember? Would the memory mean anything to what he was?

Everything had been so much simpler with Daniel. The two of them had planned a life together, a plain life brightened with children, with friends and neighbors. Somewhere peaceful, far away from her mother.

But now she was with someone whose true home was built out of bones. Someone whose nature meant he would never have any children, least of all with Regina — she had destroyed any chance of that long ago, rendering herself barren with a potion rather than allow Cora any chance of royal grandchildren. Regina shifted away uneasily, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Suddenly chilled, she pulled up her legs and wrapped her arms around her knees, bowing her head. From behind her, Facilier murmured sleepily, but she didn't respond.

 _And what is he to me? What have I let him become?_

Twenty years. Thanks to Pan's influence, the years sat lightly on her, but they didn't touch Facilier at all. A feast here, a dance there, a string of encounters across the realms — what did they add up to? She had resolved never to give her heart again, not after Cora had crushed Daniel's and love had died on a stable floor. Yet somehow, immortal or not, Facilier was there: a thought, a memory, a fleeting happiness that called her back from whatever strange seas she sailed.

Death was heartless. Wasn't it? Whatever human part of her lover smiled to see her, it was less than the whole. Someday he would tire of her, or she would die. And then what?

 _Another ghost to be resurrected at his whim, dancing to his tune. Just like poor lost Karakzha, a story told to impressionable mortals._

Regina shuddered. No. She would leave him before that happened.

"Regina? What's wrong?"

She turned to see him looking at her. She saw nothing but sincere concern. Honest affection.

 _Appearances deceive._

She forced a smile. "Nothing, love." She took his outstretched hand in her own and slipped back under the blanket to spend what remained of the night with him.

Tomorrow. She would leave tomorrow. The _Malus_ was her home, she reminded herself. She didn't need anyone in her bed. This was an indulgence, no more.

 _Is that what you believe?_

It was what she had to believe.

* * *

In the end, witches killed Ivo.

Not directly, but Hansel knew his father's death was nothing natural. At first, after he and Gretel had escaped from the candy witch, he had thought everything would be all right. But then Zelena, the wickedest witch in all of Oz, had returned to their cottage with her false promises. Ivo rejected her lies. In retaliation, Zelena had set fire to Hansel's arms, wreathing them in magical flame.

He would never forget her parting words: _You mess with a witch, you get burnt!_

The burns had become infected, nearly killing Hansel before Ivo had brought him a cure. The children never found out exactly who had sold their father the healing potion, but whatever witch or sorcerer it was had exacted a steep price. Ivo weakened even as Hansel recovered his strength. By the time the children had to bury their father, Hansel was strong enough to help dig the grave himself.

When their tears had dried and they faced a bare cupboard and an empty coin box, Gretel told Hansel, "We can't stay here."

Being the older, she expected his obedience, and in this case, he agreed, but, "Where can we go? What do we do?" He knew there were people who had to beg for their food, but had never imagined becoming one himself. "Should we try the city?"

"Not the city; the witch is there. No, I have a better idea." Gretel showed him the bean she had stolen from the candy house. "This is a magic bean. If you throw it on the ground, it opens a portal to wherever you want to go, even if that's in another world."

"You mean... you think we should leave Oz?"

"Not just leave Oz. We need to go somewhere _better_. Somewhere we'll be safe from witches. Somewhere with good people, people who won't let children starve to death — and not because they're fattening them up for the oven!"

"Is there a place like that?" Hansel tried to imagine it. Throwing themselves at the mercy of strangers — what kind of magic could make that turn out well?

A great swirling pit of green light, it seemed. Gretel grabbed Hansel by the arm when he hesitated and ran straight at the light. He stumbled after her: good or bad, he would rather face it together with his sister than alone.

At first, faced with a pack of sharp-fanged hounds baying for their blood, Hansel thought they had made a horrible mistake. He clung to his sister as they huddled together in a futile effort to hide under the leaf litter. Then the hounds were joined by what seemed to be an entire army — footmen and horses, bows and spears. They were surrounded.

Hansel tried to follow the bewildering snatches of shouted conversation and commands that flew over his head. This was not an army but a hunting party. A _royal_ hunting party? Hansel shrank back, sure now that they would be executed as two commoners trespassing in the royal forest. Gretel's fingers tightened on his arm as she spoke up for the both of them, once the dogs and mob of hunters had quieted.

"May it please your highness, my name is Margarethe, and this is my brother, Hans," she said, eyes lowered in the presence of nobility. Hansel tensed, half-expecting some witchly flurry of magic. Nothing happened. "We are orphans, fallen through a portal to your land. Begging your mercy, highness, we meant no trespass."

"Orphans!"

Hansel risked a peek around his sister. The prince's eyes were wide, and a look of sympathy spread across his face. He was young — in fact, Hansel would have guessed him to be his own age.

"And your home...?"

"We have none, your highness," said Gretel stoutly. "But we are hard workers, my brother and I, and we ask only for a chance to earn our bread."

The prince wouldn't hear of it. They were children, he said. Though he was a child himself, he gave the orders to bring Hansel and Gretel back to the palace as his guests. Somehow, in their transition between realms, the two commoners were elevated in the prince's mind to his equals, noble refugees from a far land.

"Call me Henry," he insisted. Hansel suspected that the other boy was lonely. He hadn't seen any other children about the place, only a few younger servants, and he knew that in Oz, highborn children were kept away from the lowborn. But because they were strangers, they could be whoever they wanted to be.

"It's the magic working," Gretel whispered to Hansel later, in the privacy of the guest chamber they had been assigned. "When I used the bean, it's what I wished for... so don't mess this up, you hear me? Papa was a king, and there's no one here to say any different."

Hansel didn't like lying, but as she said, it wasn't _really_ lying if they just looked sad and hinted at mysterious enemies when questioned about their pasts. The royal family easily accepted them both as fosterlings, and as befit a noble-born boy, Hansel became a page alongside Prince Henry, while Gretel found herself an apprenticeship with a local herbalist.

In time, the two boys became close friends. Prince Henry's father had been a hero, a knight, but in Hansel's mind, his own father had died just as heroically. That was the story he told, omitting mention of his father's humble profession. And when Henry confessed Sir Baelfire's origin as a commoner, that only strengthened the bond between the two boys.

"When you're a knight, you can become a hero, too, and win the hand of a princess just like my father did," Henry would tell Hansel.

Hansel never argued the point, though deep in his heart he knew he didn't care about princesses, as long as he had Henry's friendship.

* * *

"That's not how you do it." Drizella jabbed at her little sister with a stick, but it was a feint, and a moment later, Ella's stick was sent flying.

"Hey!" Ella shook out the hand Drizella had just whacked.

Drizella sighed. "Aren't you supposed to be hanging up the laundry, not attacking the trees?"

"I _did_." Ella glared at Drizella resentfully. "Anyway, this is more important than stupid laundry. Don't you _care_ , Drizzy? Or do you just do everything Mother says—"

"Of course I care! But you're eleven years old. You think you're just going to sneak into the palace and stab the prince with a kitchen knife? Do you have any idea how many guards he has?"

"I know all that. That's why I'm practicing." Ella bent down to retrieve her stick.

"The tree doesn't hit back. What do you think you're going to learn, doing that?"

"More than I will doing the laundry," muttered Ella, smacking the tree as hard as she could. "If I hit first, and hit hard enough, the guard won't be able to hit back, either."

"Idiot. You're going to get yourself killed. Father wouldn't want that."

"But it's been six months, and Mother hasn't done _anything_. He was _murdered_. We have to avenge him."

"There was a trial—"

"Not a fair one! Everyone was lying. Father wasn't... wasn't a thief."

"I know, but we don't have proof. Look, I'm working on it. You just have to be patient." Ella was an annoying brat, but she was family. Drizella had already lost one sister and didn't want to lose another. Ella opened her mouth to argue, but Drizella spoke first, "Go back inside. You still have to sweep the kitchen before Mother throws a fit."

"She won't notice. Isn't she supposed to be going to some ball tonight, and aren't _you_ supposed to be going with her?"

Drizella rolled her eyes. "Shut up. It's not as if I have any more choice about it than you do."

Drizella hated the high society her mother was so eager to dominate. Lady Tremaine dressed her daughter up like a doll and paraded her before the nobility as her perfect little pawn. It wasn't only the clothes: her mother made her practice flirting and smiling into a mirror until Drizella loathed the sight of her own face.

And it was all a lie. Drizella knew her mother would rather have her precious Anastasia, that she thought the wrong daughter had fallen through the ice all those years ago. Anastasia should have lived — Anastasia of the pure heart, Anastasia who didn't have to be taught how to smile, Anastasia who loved her mother and deserved her love in return. Anastasia would already have been betrothed to a prince.

Drizella was only fourteen, barely old enough for her mother to dangle in front of the highborn. The balls were practice, of a kind grimmer than Ella's flailing with sticks. She almost wished their positions were reversed. Better to be a drudge, ignored and permitted the freedom of her own thoughts, than to have to smile and dance and beg for every scrap of Mother's approval.

By nature an introvert, Drizella hated it all. But she had loved her father, too, so she mingled where Mother brought her, and listened. That was how she knew that Mother had conspired with Prince Martin, the older son of the king. Martin was barely nineteen, but his soul burned to bring justice to his countrymen, oppressed by the king's tyrannical taxes. That, or he was precocious in his ambition — Drizella knew that was her mother's view. Lady Tremaine had obviously assured Martin of her support, but alas — Marcus Tremaine was too loyal to the king. What could be done?

So, the mockery of a trial, and Marcus's hasty execution. And a revolution simmered...

But Drizella didn't tell Ella any of this. Her sister was too young and simple-minded to understand. She would charge into the ring like a bull, and like a bull, get stabbed full of holes.

"How did you know how to do that?" Ella caught up with Drizella the next day.

"Do what?"

Ella twirled a stick at her. "You said 'that's not how you do it.' Then you knocked the stick out of my hand. So where did you learn sword-fighting?"

"Ah." Not so stupid after all. It occurred to Drizella that here was the perfect way to keep her little sister out of trouble for a few more years. "Do you want to learn, then?"

The wood-cutter was a retired soldier, sent into exile in some failed rebellion from so long ago that no one else remembered it. Drizella had befriended the man and inveigled a few lessons out of him. Now she brought him a new student. As it turned out, Ella soon surpassed her older sister, being stronger from regularly lugging buckets of water and baskets of laundry about, as well as more determined to become a warrior.

Drizella gave it up after the third time Ella beat her in their sparring sessions. It didn't matter, anyway. The real power was in magic. Lady Tremaine was strangely ambivalent about the use of magic. On the one hand, she scorned witches, fairies, and the like, but on the other hand, she was perfectly willing to use it herself — as long as such use went unseen. But Drizella had always been an observant child, and she had caught glimpses of _her_.

The witch.

She had to be a witch, thought Drizella. She showed up at key moments in their family's history: when Mother came back, when Ella's mother left, and when Anastasia had drowned. There was some secret there, something that Mother was keeping from them all. Something magical.

 _That_ was the key. If Drizella had magic of her own, she would be able to avenge her father and be free to live the life she wanted, out from under her mother's thumb. Let Ella learn to wield a sword. Drizella would pursue a different path.

* * *

"We're going to die," moaned Hansel. "This is crazy."

"Shut up and keep paddling," hissed Henry. "We're almost there. See that light? That must be where the dock is."

It was dark and it was cold and Hansel was sure the boat was leaking, but it was the only way to reach the castle on the island. Thank the gods the sea was calm tonight. A mile had never seemed so far. Henry had "borrowed" the boat from a local fisherman, saying that they were sure to be forgiven afterwards, because it was in a good cause.

They were going to rescue a princess.

"Agh!" A stray whitecap splashed Hansel in the face. Luckily, the boat — an outrigger canoe — was more stable than the ones he was familiar with from Oz. But the venture was still insane. The princess had been kidnapped by a renegade prince from the Southern Isles, in a mad bid for a throne. Sarah was the oldest daughter and heir of Queen Abigail and Frederick. She would marry him, Prince Otto announced, or remain his prisoner forever.

A totally demented scheme — except that Otto had somehow acquired the keys to a magic castle. Magic strong enough that no one could break in, strong enough to keep the inhabitants supplied through any attempt at a siege. Poor Princess Sarah had held out for over a month already, but things were not looking good for her.

Too bad, so sad, and none of Hansel's business, except that he _had_ to go and try to impress Henry with his own magic key. Well, it was actually Gretel's magic key (she had sworn never to be locked up by a witch ever again, making good on her oath by acquiring a universal key from somewhere — she refused to tell Hansel where), but Hansel had borrowed it. Really just borrowed it, intending to put it back right after he showed it to Henry. But of course Henry had taken him at his word and immediately leaped headfirst into the idea that they should sneak out and rescue the princess themselves.

"It'll be an adventure!"

"Oh. But we're just squires. Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Think about it. Maybe she'll be grateful and offer to marry you!"

"I'm thirteen! Ugh!" Hansel felt ill at the very idea.

"I'm only joking."

"It's not funny, Henry."

Unfortunately, Henry wasn't joking about the adventure. So here they were in the dead of night, hoping to reach the island without being dashed against the rocks.

* * *

When Regina, along with half a dozen of her crew, made landfall on the island, she was surprised to see a boat already moored at the dock. Prince Otto had made a point of magically kidnapping the princess, vanishing in a cloud of smoke. How anti-climactic to have to row a boat out from the mainland after all that.

Not that it mattered. Sorcerer or not, the man was a damn squatter. Regina didn't know how he had gotten his grubby little hands on the keys, but it was _her_ castle. Just because she had left it behind when she was cursed and could no longer keep up the maintenance spells didn't mean she had abandoned it.

Well. All right, it had been a heap of rubble the last time she had been here, so Otto was at least competent enough to reactivate the magic holding the walls in place. Whether he was skilled enough to cast his own wards, or whether he relied on the old set that came with the castle...

Regina stepped up to the base of the wall and stretched out a hand gingerly. Aha. She glanced back at her crew. "It's fine. The castle remembers me."

They caught Otto on the stairs as he rushed down, belatedly alerted to the intrusion.

Regina laughed at the shocked expression on his face. "Ah, our host finally shows himself. Hello, dear."

Otto snarled, waving his hands to throw a fireball at Regina.

The flames splashed harmlessly off her alligator hide coat. Just because she no longer cast spells didn't mean she had given up all use of magic... and other tricks. Even as two of her followers stepped up with swords, Regina took advantage of Otto's distraction to hit him with a spray of squid ink. After that, he was able to make no resistance when she cuffed him with magic-suppressing bracelets.

"How dare you lay a hand on me! I am a prince of the Southern Isles..."

"I pity your parents, then. I may have been a disappointment to mine, but you're just a diplomatic nightmare."

"A temporary setback. When I am king..." he blustered.

"On the thirty-second of never? No, I'm afraid 'King Otto' isn't in the cards." Literally not, as it was the Serendipity Deck which had led her to this mission in the first place.

Once she confiscated the castle keys from Otto, she had him chained and dragged away. Sarah's royal parents could deal with him later. Meanwhile, she queried the castle and found the princess locked up in a luxurious bedchamber.

"I'm Captain Manzana. Your parents hired me to rescue you," Regina said to the frightened girl. Remembering what it was like to be trapped, pressured into a marriage she didn't want, Regina softened her voice. "It's all right. You're safe now."

Still wary, the princess allowed Regina to escort her downstairs. Regina paused at the front gate. She turned to Smee. "Take her to the _Malus_ and wait for me. There's one more thing I need to check." Taking a lantern, Regina turned back to the castle.

"Captain, wait," protested Smee. "Are you sure it's wise to go alone? What if there's a trap?"

"All the better. This expedition hasn't offered much challenge so far."

"That's the best kind," grumbled Smee.

Regina rolled her eyes. She picked the most bored-looking of the crew. "Fine. Rafe, you come with me."

There were two other prisoners, the castle had told her. Curious that Otto had not mentioned them, nor the princess. Regina found them in a dungeon in the bottom of the castle, where the crashing of the waves drowned out any cries for help. The door opened to her, but the prisoners were chained to the wall.

"Hold the lamp." Regina left Rafe in the doorway as she moved warily towards the prisoners. "So. What have we here?"

"Are you... who are you?" As the prisoners stared at her, and one of them stammered out his questions, Regina realized that they were children. Two frightened boys.

"Captain Manzana, of the _Malus_." Regina coaxed the story out of the boys. They had come here on some foolhardy quest to free the princess, but had been caught by Otto the moment they set foot inside the magic castle. She shook her head at the would-be heroes. "Next time, leave it to the professionals."

"That's...that's what you are? A mercenary?"

"If you like. I'm certainly not here out of the goodness of my heart."

The other boy, who had held his tongue up to this point, gave his friend an anxious look. "Henry, your family...?"

The first boy turned to him. "Yes, of course."

Regina blinked, taken aback. "'Henry'?"

Henry nodded. "That's me. And this is my friend, Hansel. Don't worry, my family will pay the ransom for him, too."

Regina bit back a smile. "Henry was my father's name, too." And her father would have wanted her to help these children. "Tell you what, this one's on me." She took out her lock picks and started on the shackles. "Now, where do you two live?"

He named the capital of the United Kingdoms of the Enchanted Forest.

"A long way from home. Not my favorite place to visit, but..." Regina finished loosening the shackles. "Let's get started." She helped them into the corridor where Rafe was waiting with the lantern. The light washed over their faces, illuminating them clearly for the first time. Regina gasped, a jolt of recognition shocking through her.

 _The boy. Henry. He's the one Pan wants._

Frozen in disbelief that her decades-long search could be at an end, Regina stared, her hand closing automatically on Henry's arm to hold him in place.

"Wh-what's wrong?" Henry tugged back, his alarm increasing when Regina didn't release him. "Captain?"

 _I promised to take him home._

Regina shook away the thought. _He's nothing to you. You made a deal with Pan._ But looking into the face of the boy, seeing innocent trust about to be betrayed, she hesitated.

 _I only want to know you're doing the right thing._ Her father's last words to her echoed in her memory. And now she was about to sell his namesake to a demon. No.

Regina sighed, dropping her grip. "Nothing. Your face looked familiar. Come on, let's get you home." She would resign from Pan's service and take back her life. As long as he didn't find out about this Henry—

"The Truest Believer." Rafe's voice had gone strange. He grabbed Henry, looping a rope around his wrists in one swift motion. "Your home is with Pan."

"Rafe! Let him go." Regina's command fell on deaf ears. Rafe had the blank, faintly glowing eyes of the possessed. With a sinking feeling, Regina realized that he had never stopped being a Lost Boy. All this time, he must have been Pan's spy aboard the _Malus_.

"Hey! What are you doing?" The other boy, Hansel, charged at Rafe, but the Lost Boy easily fended him off, knocking him to the ground and kicking him once he was down.

"Hansel!" Henry jerked uselessly against the rope.

Rafe met Regina's eyes. "You owe a debt. Pan's gifts always come with a price, and you must pay."

"Fine." Regina stooped down as if to shove Hansel out of their path, but she straightened suddenly and caught Rafe in the face with a fistful of poppy dust. "...we'll see about that." She transferred the rope from Henry to the now-sleeping Rafe. "There. That should keep him for now." She looked at the mistrustful faces of the two boys. "I meant what I said. I'll take you home."

But Rafe (or whatever shadow spirit spoke through him) meant what he said, too.

Regina almost made it to the end of the corridor before she collapsed.

* * *

 _All the years Neverland held back, may they fall on you threefold._

Quiet enveloped Regina as everything went dark and the sound of the sea receded to a distant murmur. Human voices couldn't reach her here. Pan's curse, set in her heart years ago when they first made their agreement, bloomed at last, triggered by her betrayal.

 _I should have known,_ she thought. But what use was knowing? She wasn't the Evil Queen anymore, to buy her own happiness with the lives of her subjects. Captain Manzana was no hero, but she didn't trade in children, either. As the years had gone by with no sign of Pan's target, Regina had fooled herself into thinking that she would never have to make good on her own end of that deal. It had been pleasant to be an adventurer for hire, respected for her skills rather than her title or past reputation.

Well, everything came to an end. That was the lot of all mortal life, wasn't it? A peaceful way to go, all things considered. She couldn't summon the energy to fight her fate.

She thought, then, of drawing the sign. Just the pattern traced out with her finger would be enough if she willed it. If she called for him. The name she had not called in four years.

He was already there. The shadow lurking behind the other shadows.

"I didn't summon you," she said softly.

"You don't need to draw a sign for me. Your soul is beacon enough."

"Because I'm dying."

He didn't say anything. They both knew it was true. Then Regina sighed. "Thank you. I... I'm glad you're here."

"Four years. It's been four years."

"Four years is nothing to you."

"It's everything." Then he was kneeling behind her, drawing her into his arms, supporting her in his lap when she had no strength to sit up. "Regina... why?"

"I was afraid," she admitted. Afraid when she realized how much he had come to mean to her. "It all seems so stupid now. Four more years we could have been together."

He caressed her cheek, moistened with her tears. "It doesn't have to be the end."

Regina forced a chuckle. "Don't... don't lie to me. I... brought it on myself. I know."

"And you brought your own salvation with you."

"What... what do you mean?"

Facilier lifted a hand, and two faint outlines glimmered through the shadows. "Who are these children? Give them to me. Their lives for yours, that's a trade I can make."

"No!" A moment of clarity and a flash of panic fueled her protest.

Then one of the outlines pushed through the veil of darkness. It was Henry. "Please, sir, are you a sorcerer? Can you save her? I'll pay..."

Facilier chortled. "He offers freely..."

"Don't you dare!" The boy didn't know what he was saying. She wanted to jump up and force him away to safety, but even the effort of speaking exhausted her.

"Are you certain?"

"It was my decision. Don't... don't you dare take it away from me. Twenty years we had."

"What about your revenge?"

"I don't care about that anymore." Regina was surprised to say it, even more surprised that it was true. It was another woman who had carried that grudge, an eon ago in another life.

"But you don't know who this boy is."

"His name is Henry. He told me."

"Ah, but did he tell you he is the grandson of Snow White and her charming husband? Their only grandchild, as it happens."

"What!?" Regina tilted her head to face the boy. "Is this true?"

Henry's eyes were wide, shocked, but he nodded. "What...what does he mean about revenge?"

"It doesn't matter," Regina spat out harshly.

"Doesn't it?" Facilier murmured, his breath warming her neck. "It could be my gift to you."

And oh gods, she was tempted. Back in the world, in the world where her heart beat for vengeance, where blood ran hot in her veins, she would have accepted. Hate for hate, loss for loss, to kill Snow's grandchild like this. But here, in the shadows, with the years weighing her down, meaning drained away and she saw only a boy with a life ahead of him — if she didn't cut that life short, as she had done to so many once upon a time.

 _What's one more?_

It would be one too many. To go back to that, now? She shut her eyes. "No. No, I don't want that."

"Then Pan's curse will kill you."

"No, that can't be right," protested Henry. "She was saving us. Good can't lose to evil, not like this."

 _It's not a game,_ Regina wanted to tell him. Black and white pieces on a board — life wasn't like that. But she had no breath left.

"If it's a curse... wait... there's one magic powerful enough to break any curse. Please, sir, you have to try."

"True love's kiss? Ah, child, such things are not for those such as I." Facilier's soft response caught at the end. As if in grief. As if he could feel such a thing. Regina felt his hand around hers, holding her here.

Not for much longer. Not against her will. He had always respected her choices. And now he would let her go...

"But you love her, don't you? You have to try!"

She didn't hear Facilier's answer, or what the boy said after that. Love? Was that what it was that they felt? That he felt? That she felt? The boy was too optimistic. What was it Rafe had said? _The Truest Believer._

But when all sensation faded, and Regina thought she would never feel anything ever again, she felt the press of his lips on hers. Familiar, warm, the same as all the times before, but not the same at all.

 _I love you._

As the truth of that love rushed through her, light flared bright enough to pierce her closed eyelids, a rainbow that shattered every curse binding her soul.

 _True love's kiss._


	7. Sisterhood

**Author's notes:** Back from NaNoWriMo with 50K more words... which wasn't enough to get to the bit where the Dark Curse is cast yet again and everyone loses their memories. *facepalms* Nothing for it but to keep writing.

I made Cecelia (Ella/Jacinda's mother) a niece of the Anastasia from OUATIW, which is how she ended up with the magic looking glass as a family heirloom. And borrowing other bits from OUATIW, because I like to pretend items from the show are more than tailor-made plot devices and actually exist in a coherent setting. (It's the world-builder in me.)

* * *

Lady Tremaine (current edition) had her predecessor formally declared dead ten years after Cecelia had vanished. Ella quietly raged at the decree and refused to believe her mother was dead.

"What, you'd rather think she just abandoned her husband and children?" Drizella asked, implicitly including herself in the category of 'Cecelia's children' for her sister's sake, whatever Rapunzel Tremaine's opinion on the matter. From what she remembered of her stepmother, Cecelia wasn't that cruel. Rapunzel was, but if Ella hadn't put the pieces together yet, Drizella hadn't the heart to disillusion her.

"She can't be dead. Someone would have found the body," Ella argued. "We would have heard."

Drizella sighed. So many holes in that reasoning. But she held her tongue. After all, it would be hypocritical to deride Ella for irrational hopes when Drizella herself was no better.

 _Ana wasn't dead._ That was Lady Tremaine's secret, the one that Drizella had finally wormed out of her mother. Anastasia hovered somewhere between life and death, her last breath sealed into her perfectly preserved flesh by witchcraft. Like Ella, Drizella hoped against all rationality for a miraculous reunion someday.

But Lady Tremaine wasn't so understanding. She punished Ella's defiance, piling on the scutwork and choosing Drizella instead of Ella to assist in clearing out Cecelia's belongings from the attic storage. Anything valuable was sold off, while sentimental keepsakes and old letters were tossed in the fire.

"I didn't want them," Ella said when Drizella told her. "Who wants to read a bunch of old lies?"

"Maybe they were truth." Drizella wasn't sure how much her younger sister actually remembered about Cecelia, but Ella being the daughter by blood gave her opinion an extra weight that Drizella felt she had no right to overturn.

"About how she was playing Father for a fool? No thanks, that's even worse."

"Fine. Believe what you want." Drizella rolled her eyes and left Ella to continue scrubbing the floor. As it turned out, Lady Tremaine had kept one item from Cecelia's property: a mirror. Framed in a brass circle, it was no more than a foot across.

"It's a portal," explained Lady Tremaine, "to Wonderland."

Drizella nodded. A peculiar realm, but full of magic by all accounts.

"Wonderland, like Agrabah, is a realm where genies may be found."

"You think we can save Ana with a genie's wish?" Drizella guessed, trying not to get her hopes up prematurely. But a genie was said to be one of the most powerful magical beings...

"There's almost nothing a wish can't do," confirmed Lady Tremaine. "There are risks, of course, and magic has its costs, but if it can help Anastasia..."

"I'll go." Drizella forced a smile onto her face. "I was getting bored of sitting inside, anyway."

It was January, and outside was knee-deep in snow, but Drizella knew that she had no real choice in the matter. At least if she volunteered, she could score some points with mother. And if she really _could_ save Ana, it would be worth it.

* * *

Drizella felt an utter fool, wrapped up in half a dozen layers of heavy clothes, when the eternally temperate air of Wonderland turned her into a steaming mess. It was a bizarre realm, full of grotesque creatures with human faces and mis-sized vegetation that straddled the line between flora and fauna.

She unwound her scarf and traded it to a talking cat in return for its services as a guide. The cat introduced Drizella to a giant purple caterpillar who ran a dimensionally improbable tavern inside a mushroom. Feeling light-headed, she wondered if she had walked onto the set of a colorful opera or a demented masquerade.

"That's a hookah," the cat said helpfully when Drizella, uncomfortable with the Caterpillar's near-human features, stared instead at the contraption in his hand. "I don't know what he's smoking, but I'd advise you against it."

"Right. Thank you." Drizella took a deep breath and risked a peek at the Caterpillar's face. "I was told you're the go-to procurer of... unusual items."

"Hrmmm. And what is it that you seek?" The Caterpillar spoke in a deep, leisurely rumble, swaying back and forth as he peered down through a pair of spectacles at Drizella.

"I need a genie."

"A genie, eh?" The Caterpillar sucked on a pipe, then blew out a cloud of sickly-sweet smoke in Drizella's face.

She waved her hat in front of her to clear away the fumes, holding her breath until the worst had dissipated. "Yes."

"Or is it the wishes you want?"

"Well, that is rather the point of a genie, isn't it?" Drizella said impatiently.

"Dangerous. Genie wishes are notorious for their backlash," noted the Caterpillar, waving all six arms in the air in emphasis.

"That's my problem to deal with." What was he getting at? "You don't even have a genie, do you? How disappointing."

"Now, let's not be hasty. I suggest a safer alternative... wishing powder."

"Wishing powder? Never heard of it." Drizella had devoured all the magical lore available to her back home, but there hadn't been much of it. Lady Tremaine, for all her pretensions, was no arcane scholar.

"It's made by grinding wish gems into dust. In that form, they're far safer and more reliable. You get your danger out of the way up front." The Caterpillar sent a ring of smoke billowing upwards. "A wish in the hand is worth... what is it worth to you, hmmm?"

Drizella was skeptical. "Why does it sound like you don't have any wishing powder, either?"

The Caterpillar waved the pipe at her. "Ah, but I know where you can acquire some."

He traded the knowledge to her for a gold coin and her hat. Drizella knew she had overpaid, but it was her mother's money, and she didn't want to waste any more time haggling with weird monsters. According to the Caterpillar, wishing powder could be obtained at a magical ravine known as the Great Divide. He was fuzzy on the details, beyond drawing her a map of its location — past such landmarks as the Infinite Maze, the Mallow Marsh, and the Mimsey Meadows.

"'The pure of heart shall make the leap,'" she read from the plaque. The ravine was a jagged gash gouged into the earth, deep and forbidding. "You can't be serious. Leap into _that?_ "

Drizella inched closer to the edge and peered down. Deep enough to smash her to a pulp if she fell. Right. Don't fall, she told herself. Not being in any great hurry, she retraced her steps back to the closest village and bought four hundred feet of rope and a wheelbarrow to carry it in. With the help of the rope, she made it safely to the bottom of the ravine. From there, she picked her way through the boulders, avoiding the stream that ran through the ravine. It looked shallow, but she didn't trust appearances, especially not in Wonderland.

Despite all her precautions, she fell into a pit.

 _Damn it._ She lay on her back, the breath knocked out of her, staring in bemusement at the patch of sky visible above her. Magic. It had to be magic. You couldn't walk three steps without tripping over a magical rock in this realm. If she was lucky, this magic would lead her to the wishing powder.

"You have to make your own luck," came a child's voice from behind her. "You know that, Drizzy."

Drizella forced herself to sit up, wincing at the pain. "Who...who's there? Show yourself!" She fumbled for the dagger she kept in her boot.

"You know me, don't you, Drizzy?" A girl emerged from the shadows, smiling coldly at her. "As well as you know yourself."

Drizella's jaw dropped. It _was_ herself — herself from a decade ago, but eerily self-possessed and... and just plain _creep_ y. "This is some trick, or test. I'm here for the wishing powder — do you have it?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out."

As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, Drizella saw that scattered among the rocks and debris were numerous bare skeletons and skulls. They looked human... human enough. Well, the Caterpillar had said it would be dangerous. Drizella swallowed her doubts and aimed the dagger at the girl. "Whatever game you have in mind, let's get it over with."

"Yes, pretend it's all a game. But I'm you, and you can't lie to me. I know how scared you really are," the child taunted. She stepped closer, gazing up at Drizella with disturbing intensity. "I know how much this means to you."

"What... what are you talking about?" Drizella found herself turning in place to keep her young doppelganger in view as the girl circled — stalked — around her.

"Why are you really here, Drizzy?"

"I'm here for the wishing powder. But you know that." Drizella kept her voice low. She didn't like the echoes in this place, or the way the ground seemed to tremble in response to the girl's questions.

"Why do you want the wishing powder?"

"To save Ana."

"Really? Or are you doing it to win Mother's approval?" The child grinned viciously at her, seeing far too much.

"I... no... Ana is my sister! Of course I'll do anything I can to save her." Drizella retreated from that knowing gaze until she found a stone column at her back. "Stop it! I love Ana."

"Oh, everyone loves Ana, dear sweet Anastasia. Especially Mother."

Drizella couldn't deny it. That much was true.

The child pressed on, "Loves her with all her heart, leaving none for us. Everything for Ana. Nothing to spare for Drizzy. And you hate that, don't you?"

"It's only because Ana is gone!" Face to face with her younger self, Drizella's confession burst out, words she had never voiced aloud before. "Ana is some perfect memory in Mother's mind, and she can't even see me anymore."

"And you think if you can wake Ana up, that things will change?"

"They have to."

The child Drizella shook her head slowly. "Nothing will change. Mother will always overlook us. She'll never love or respect us, no matter what happens with Ana. That was decided a long time ago."

"You're wrong! Once Ana is awake, Mother will see for herself who has always been at her side, always been there for her."

"You think she'll appreciate your loyalty? No, she'll just despise you for your neediness. You're weak, Drizzy. We can't afford to be weak." The child stamped her foot, causing the entire cavern to rumble.

Drizella shuddered. "Shut up. Do you have the wishing powder or not?"

"Oh, I have it." The child grinned nastily. "But I won't waste it on a loser like you. I can't believe I grew up to be a pathetic puppy dog, begging Mummy for any scrap of attention."

"I am not weak." Drizella forced any betraying softness from her face and pinned her younger self with her gaze. "Give me what I want."

The child laughed. "What you want! Listen to me. I can do that. But it's not your sister you need to use the wishing powder on."

"What?"

"You must use it on Mother. She'll forget that Anastasia ever existed. You'll be the only daughter for her. The only one who matters. _That's_ what you truly want, isn't it?"

Drizella was shocked into silence. Was it what she wanted? Of course she wanted Mother to acknowledge her, even love her. But—

"I'm right, and you know it." The girl held up a hand, a small bag materializing between her fingers. "Just a pinch, and it's done. We'll have the mother we deserve."

It would work. Drizella watched her future unfold in her mind's eye. Saw her mother smile in genuine happiness to see Drizella. Knew for the first time what it was like to have her mother care about her daughter's interests and opinions. Felt the warmth of belonging, of being more than a useful pawn to be pushed onto the board.

It would never work.

"It wouldn't be real!" Drizella shoved the girl and her temptation away before she could take back her rejection. "No. I don't want that! I'm here for my sister. For Ana!"

She shut her eyes. This had always been a long shot. She told herself she wasn't losing anything when she never had it in the first place...

"Congratulations, Drizzy."

Drizella opened her eyes to see the girl smiling at her, hand outstretched to offer the bag of dust. "I... I don't understand."

"That was the test."

Drizella inhaled shakily. A test. She should have known. As soon as her fingers closed around the bag, her younger self evaporated. The cavern dissolved around her, and Drizella found herself back on the canyon floor, standing at the base of her rope.

Once she had made it back to the top of the cliff, she gave the plaque a disgusted kick."'The pure of heart shall make the leap'? I hate this realm. You never know when to take something literally or figuratively."

She would be glad to leave the madness of Wonderland behind before any worse befell her. Making her way through the Infinite Maze, she paused at a prime example of a 'worse fate'. "I wonder what your story is?"

The young woman was frozen in stone with a look of terror on her face. A giant troll clasped her from behind — whether to imprison her or to protect her, Drizella couldn't tell — and roared silently at the world.

Drizella fidgeted with the bag in her pocket. "Did you trust magic, whoever you are? It left you like this..." She slipped a finger into the dust, feeling it tingle on her skin. "Magic tested me, but perhaps I should test _it_ before I try to use it on my sister. What if I make a mistake and it turns her into a statue?"

Thinking that she could afford to spare a bit of the wishing powder to make sure it was safe, she tossed a pinch over the head of the stone woman. The dust expanded into a swirling cloud. As it settled over the woman, stone softened and gained color. The troll creaked into motion, arms sinking to its sides as it eyed Drizella from behind a curtain of long, lank hair.

Drizella could see the exact moment when the woman awoke: she opened her mouth to shout, "Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the... oh. No Jabberwock. My bad. Who the devil are you?"

"Drizella Tremaine." Disarmed by the stranger's off-kilter air of earnestness, Drizella blurted out her true name before she could think better of it. "Who are you? Why were you a statue?"

"I'm Alice and this is my friend the Tower Troll. Not to be confused with the Flower Troll, but you probably don't want to hear about that. Not that anyone wants to hear about the Jabberwock, either, but you did ask..."

"Right, so... what is this Jabberwock?"

The troll grumbled wordlessly at the name and thumped a fist on the ground. Drizella took a wary step back.

Alice glanced around, worry written all over her face. "Don't invite her to tea, I can tell you that much. She has a tendency to devour the guests... right, she's gone. My friend put me in stone to save me from her, but I didn't know how to get out, so thank you for that. How did you get me out, by the way?"

"I used a pinch of wishing powder on you." Drizella closed her hand around the bag, trying to put it away unobtrusively, but Alice spotted the motion at once.

"Wishing powder?" Alice's eyes brightened. "Can I have some, please?"

"What? No!" Drizella backed away slowly, keeping an eye on the troll.

"Please, it's for my papa. He's under a curse." Alice's face fell as Drizella continued her retreat.

"I need it for my sister. At least your father is alive. My sister isn't, not really. She's one breath away from death, and this powder may save her."

"Oh." Alice sighed. "Can you tell me where you got it, at least?"

"At the bottom of a ravine, the one they call 'The Great Divide'. I left a rope there. As long as your heart is pure, you should be fine." Drizella remembered the skeletons littering the cave, but didn't think it would help to mention them.

"Doesn't sound too bad," said Alice, instantly cheerful again. "Thank you! Come on, friend, let's go."

The troll lowered itself to let Alice scramble onto its shoulders, then ambled off like some faithful steed.

"Right. Good luck, then!" Drizella watched in bemusement as they disappeared behind the oversized hedges of the Infinite Maze.

"Wishing powder can't save her father, any more than it can save your sister," remarked a new voice from behind her.

Drizella fought back a scream, forcing herself to turn slowly. Must be another magical creature, sneaking up for a dramatic entrance. When she saw who it was, she tried to keep the recognition off her face. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The witch (it was her mother's witch!) smiled unpleasantly. "Don't play the fool with me, girl. I know you know who I am. I've seen you watching. Your mother may underestimate you, but you can't hide your cleverness from me."

Drizella crossed her arms defensively. "So I've seen you lurking around the place. That doesn't mean I know who you are."

The witch chuckled. "People call me 'Mother Gothel'."

Drizella wondered who those people were, exactly, as the woman didn't strike her as particularly maternal. She wore her hair in long braids and her face was young, unlined. "So what do you want with my family?"

"With your mother? Nothing, now. She has sadly disappointed me." Gothel's expression turned sympathetic. "As she has disappointed you, perhaps."

"What do you mean?" Drizella asked stiffly.

"Your potential is wasted under Rapunzel's tutelage. She doesn't teach you what you really need to know." Gothel paused, then nodded as if Drizella had confirmed her assessment. "For instance, wishes come in threes, and so does wishing powder. You could have spared a dose for your new friend."

"What?" Drizella couldn't help but look for Alice, though it was too late to call her back. "You could have told me that earlier!"

Gothel shrugged. "If you had a proper magical education, you would have known that already. Just as you would know that this—" She flicked her wrist, and the bag of wishing powder transported itself to her grasp in a swirl of smoke. "—can't save your sister."

"Hey!" Drizella grabbed for the bag, but the witch had locked her in place with more magic. She ground her teeth. "So for all your talk, you're just a thief."

Gothel snorted. "Call it your tuition fee." She waved her hand again, magically splitting the bag into two smaller pouches, tossing one of them back to Drizella. "Use that on your sister if you don't believe me. Once you see it's useless, you can come find me, and I'll teach you why it didn't work."

To Drizella's irritation, the witch vanished in another cloud of smoke.

"She'd better teach me how to do that," Drizella grumbled as she trudged back to the spot where she had first arrived in Wonderland. Her mother had promised to open the portal at sunrise and sunset each day for five minutes for Drizella to return.

* * *

The witch had been right, damn her eyes. Drizella swallowed curses as she bore her mother's tongue-lashing in silence.

"Useless chit of a girl." Finally Lady Tremaine dismissed her younger daughter from the secret chamber where Anastasia 'slept' in her coffin. The wishing powder had failed to restore her life.

Drizella hadn't told her mother about her encounter with Gothel, and she didn't tell her now as she made plans to run away and find the witch. Gothel had taken a third of the wishing powder, which meant she owed Drizella a debt — a debt Drizella was determined to collect.

* * *

It was early spring before Drizella finally caught up with Gothel. That was when she found out that she was only one of eight prospective witches recruited as this year's crop. The last to arrive, Drizella cast a sour look around at the others. They were a solemn bunch, hanging on Gothel's every word.

"This had better be worth trekking three hours through muddy woods for," said Drizella.

Gothel smiled. "That remains to be seen. Each of you shows promise, but only two of you will get the honor of joining the Coven of Eight."

Drizella sighed inwardly. More tests. But she had been jumping through hoops all her life. What was one more? This time, they were supposed to find the two mystical golden flowers Gothel had hidden somewhere in the woods. Great. She was setting them against each other, telling them to work alone and to be "savvy and cutthroat." "Well, so much for sisterhood."

"Sisterhood is a prize not easily won," Gothel retorted, right before vanishing in a swirl of gray smoke.

Most of the others looked terrified, but one of them, a tall girl with blond braids, approached Drizella offering alliance. Wary at first, Drizella applied her own little 'test' — using a sharp stick as a makeshift spear.

The other met her attack without flinching. "We can both win this."

Well, there were supposedly two golden flowers out there. It was worth a try, she decided. She lowered her arm. "I'm glad I didn't run you through with that stick."

As they searched, they passed the time learning more about each other's pasts. The other girl, Gretel, had a younger brother, and both had been scarred by near-death experiences with a witch. Gretel coped with her memories by constantly sucking on a lollipop. The witch's house had been conjured out of candy; Drizella supposed it was a way for Gretel to prove herself stronger than that which had once held her prisoner. Be trapped by candy, eat candy. Be overpowered by a witch, learn stronger witchcraft. It made sense, she supposed.

Gretel's brother felt differently. "He wants nothing to do with witches again. He thinks skill with a sword will protect him."

Drizella scoffed. "In a fair fight, maybe. But I haven't noticed much in the way of fair play in the magical world. Starting with our dear mentor, 'Mother' Gothel."

"Doesn't mean we can't learn from her," said Gretel.

And Gothel's lesson today was — treachery. One moment, Drizella was searching beside Gretel for the golden flowers. The next, she was alone in the woods... with Gothel. Who told her that the entire test was a lie. "You alone have proven yourself worthy..."

 _I bet you say that to all the girls_ , thought Drizella, but she held her tongue, guessing what would come next. And she was right.

"Prove you're one of us. Kill Gretel."

Drizella opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again, seeing the dangerous glint in Gothel's eyes. Object too strenuously, and she would never make it out of these woods alive. "Fine."

"It's the only way." Gothel grinned and vanished again.

Gretel was visible again in the distance. Drizella hurried to meet her. She had one chance, she thought, rehearsing what she would say to her. But it was too late.

As Drizella made her appeals to sisterhood and a shared history of victimization by witches, she saw the distant expression on Gretel's face. It was the face of someone who no longer saw her as human, but only an obstacle to be destroyed. Claiming to have found a golden flower, Gretel beckoned to Drizella. "Come see for yourself."

Instead, Drizella backed away, and Gretel's expression hardened. _Damn Gothel. She got to Gretel already._ Drizella reached for her dagger. Gretel did the same.

After that, nothing they said could stop the inevitable. It was only a question of which of them would end up bleeding on the forest floor. Gretel was taller and a hair stronger, but in the end, Drizella's hours of practice with the soldier-turned-woodcutter paid off. Drizella lost two out of three matches with her little sister, but Gretel was a different matter.

Before Drizella could even think of escape, Gothel had materialized behind her, hands trailing over her shoulders. "Congratulations. You did it."

Drizella stared down at Gretel's body. "I didn't want to."

But she had. And now that she had, she knew she couldn't waste the opportunity bought with Gretel's death. Drizella would become a witch, and seek vengeance for both of them. Gothel's perversion of family would not stand against a true spirit of sisterhood.

 _Someday. Someday I will be strong enough._


	8. The Moon

**Author's notes:** Timeline: For purposes of this fic, the wish that created the Wish Realm happened on Dec 4, the day the episode originally aired. However, there is an offset so it was Oct 23 in the Wish Realm (Emma's birthday). Ok, I admit I have a slight fuzziness about people's ages, but come on, canon wasn't exactly clear. Also, I put their "Moon Festival" a month earlier than our world's Chinese Moon Festival to make my timeline work better. Note there's no drinking age in the EF. Henry isn't really old enough to be knighted, but since it's canon, we'll say it's some kind of royal privilege.

Castles: Supposedly Regina kidnapped Snowing and killed them the same day (since she picked up the magic bean from Rumple the next day at noon). To make sense of travel times, I'm saying it all happened in the same castle: Snow's/Regina's/Leopold's castle. Regina just redecorated and took over a floor for her plans, locking everyone out until Emma came in to surrender. That left the wards open for Henry to barge in.

* * *

 _The Moon Tarot card, usually numbered as the eighteenth Major Arcana, depicts a full moon shining between two pillars. A wolf and a dog howl at the moon, while a crayfish crawls from the edge of the water. We are not one; we are two. This is a card of illusion, of fear, of mystery and secrets. The moon hides as much as it illuminates: all is confusion. Where is the truth?_

* * *

The moon hung low in the sky, a great round disk celebrated this night all across the realm for luck, for bountiful harvests, and for family. It was the last one that Hansel was missing as he and Henry trekked up Firefly Hill with their mooncakes and table beer.

"Gretel was supposed to be here," said Hansel. They had always celebrated the Moon Festival together. It had been their time to remember the ones lost to them.

"Yes, you said. Maybe she just got caught up in her studies," argued Henry, ever the optimist.

"No, she would never... she said she would be back. She promised. She never forgets a promise." Hansel shook his head. "Something's wrong. I know it."

"She could have been delayed by bad weather, or her horse went lame." Henry clapped Hansel on the back. "Come on, cheer up, I didn't drag you up here to mope!"

Hansel forced a smile. Under any other circumstances, he would have been overjoyed to meet Henry by moonlight on Firefly Hill, but he couldn't help worrying. It wasn't any mundane herbcraft Gretel meant when she told Hansel she was going to a specialist for 'advanced studies'. No. What she had in mind was _magic_ , and the 'specialist' was a witch.

Henry sighed. "Look, if you're really worried, I'll help you look for her. We'll beg leave from our duties until we find her."

"Thanks. I... that's very generous of you."

"Hey, you'd do the same for me, right?"

Hansel nodded. "Of course!"

The next morning, the two boys headed into town to meet with the herbalist Gretel had been apprenticed to.

"She said Rishika — that's the herbalist — knew someone with _real_ magic, and convinced her to write her a letter of recommendation," Hansel told Henry. "But she wouldn't tell me who. I think she was... well, witches aren't exactly _safe_ , you know?"

"So she was trying to protect you? Not knowing things is a terrible way to 'protect' people," said Henry. "But my family is the same way. Good thing I have a working set of ears and know when to keep quiet."

"You know it's not honorable to spy on people."

Henry shrugged. "It's not really _spying_. I'm just keeping myself informed. They think I'm a child, so they never tell me anything."

"But that's not it. Gretel wasn't protecting _me_ , she just didn't want me telling her what a bad idea it was to go chasing after a powerful magic user who could be as bad as the Wicked Witch of the West for all we know." Hansel stopped. "Here we are. Rishika's shop. She won't talk to me, but you're the prince — it would be treason to refuse!"

Henry scoffed. "Only if you think I'm some kind of tyrant. Come on, we'll try asking politely. If that doesn't work... well..." He grinned at Hansel.

Whether it was Henry's good manners or the implicit threat of royal disapproval, Rishika eventually divulged the name of Gretel's new tutor.

"'Mother Gothel'? Never heard of her," said Henry later, as they planned out their excursion with the aid of maps borrowed from the royal library.

"Three weeks ride," Hansel estimated, assuming they traveled by road and were able to requisition remounts at least to the border of their kingdom. "Gothel has a garden somewhere in the south of Opona."

"Well, we're on good terms with Opona. Shouldn't have any trouble even if we get recognized."

"I guess that's why they're letting you go with only six of the household guard as escort."

Ever since their unauthorized expedition to rescue Princess Sarah, the royal family had kept a tighter rein on their youngest scion, and Hansel knew that Henry's offer of help came with an armed retinue included. Whether they would be effective against magic was another question.

* * *

The young woman who met them at the gate of Gothel's garden introduced herself as Drizella. Upon learning who they were, a stricken look crossed her face. "Hansel? You're Gretel's brother?"

Hansel nodded. "Yes, I'm here to see her..." His heart sank as Drizella schooled her features into a neutral mask. Something was definitely wrong. "Did... did something happen?"

"She... there was a bandit attack," Drizella said softly. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Bandits?" Henry pressed for the details while Hansel was too shocked by the news to speak coherently.

In the woods, Drizella explained. They had been out gathering certain rare flowers. A gang of bandits had chanced across them...

Hansel barely heard her. _My sister is dead._ And it had happened _months_ ago.

"She never told Mother Gothel she had family, or we would have sent word," Drizella said.

 _Lies. All lies._ The more Drizella spoke, the more convinced Hansel was of her duplicity. Even staring at the grave marker, Hansel couldn't make himself believe it. He fell to his knees and clawed at the dirt.

It was Henry who pulled him away. "Hansel. Hansel, you... you can't dig her up with your bare hands."

"Don't tell me what I can't do!" Hansel jerked free. "Somebody give me a shovel."

"It's been months. I'm sorry, Hansel."

Two of the household guard restrained him. "Sorry, lad. But this is no good. You got to let her rest. Come on. You'll feel better after a drink and a meal."

The drink only unlocked a torrent of furious accusations. "Witches. You can't trust a word out of their mouths. They'll smile and stab you in the back. Bandits! What bandits? Huh? Where are they? Were they caught? Do we have confessions?"

"There were witnesses," Henry told him.

"Witnesses! Ha. The witches got to them. Magic. Or threats. Come on. You can't believe this bullshit, can you? Let's talk to these so-called witnesses."

The others hauled him off to sleep, hoping that time and rest would ease his pain. The raw edge of grief dulled, but not Hansel's conviction that Gretel's death was no simple bandit attack. Henry agreed to investigate — discreetly. Hansel knew he was only humoring him, but he was grateful all the same.

"We'll ask a few questions," Henry told him in the morning.

A few turned into a few more. And a few more, while resistance to answering grew more obvious, even to Henry. After the third day, they could no longer find Gothel's garden. They kept walking past the spot where it should have been, or going down the wrong turn. Gothel herself proved elusive.

"I don't know, Hansel. Maybe she is hiding something. And I think the locals are scared of Gothel," Henry admitted in the relative privacy of their inn room. "They _say_ she's good, but there's something in their eyes."

"Ha! The only good witch is a dead witch." Hansel sat on the bed, whittling a sharp stake — the line between _witch_ and _vampire_ having been known to blur at times.

Henry shot him a troubled look and made a shushing gesture. "But your sister wanted to study to be a witch..."

"And it killed her," hissed Hansel. "I'm telling you, you'll find nothing but rocks in her grave. That witch turned her into fertilizer..."

"We don't really have evidence," said Henry. "Just rumors and a few details that don't add up. But it was months ago. People forget things."

"And maybe Gothel made them forget. Witches can make memory potions."

"All right, but what if we get too close and she forces _us_ to drink memory potions? Then we'll be worse off than we started."

Hansel scoffed. _He_ was usually the cautious one. "You still think I'm making this up, don't you?"

Henry sighed and sat down next to Hansel, running a hand through his hair. "You could be seeing what you want to see..."

"You think I _want_ my sister to have been murdered by a witch?" Hansel's voice rose again.

"No, no, calm down, that's not what I mean. We're all tired. And you lost your sister. I'm thinking maybe we need an outside perspective. Someone experienced who can investigate for us."

"Who? This isn't your kingdom, you can't just ask your grandparents to appoint someone."

Henry grinned in triumph. "I know just the person. Remember Captain Manzana? If we put together our gold, I'm sure we can hire her."

Hansel brightened at the thought. Yes, there had been magic that night with the sorcerer-prince, but the captain had opened their locks with physical lock picks, and used poppy dust rather than a spell on her mutinous crew member. True, her _friend_ had exhibited a frightening level of magical power, but sometimes you needed magic to fight magic. You just had to keep well clear.

"We'll pretend we've given up, head out of here. Then we send for Captain Manzana... that way Gothel won't suspect us."

"All right. Thank you, Henry." Hansel gripped Henry's forearms and squeezed them in gratitude. "You're a good friend."

Henry glanced away in embarrassment, muttering, "It's the right thing to do."

They arrived back home in the third week of October, after swinging by Longbourn to send a message to Captain Manzana.

"Could be weeks," Henry warned Hansel. "They say her ship is the fastest vessel in the realm, but who knows when she'll even see the message, or how busy she is right now."

"I know. I can wait, as long as we're doing something."

"Well, right now we have to get birthday presents for my mother," Henry reminded him.

"And you're to be knighted. Don't forget that!" Hansel smiled, trying to feel happy for his friend. As the royal castle filled up with guests and servants preparing for the event, it was easy to bury his troubles in the general excitement. The official line was that Gretel had been killed by bandits half a year ago, and while it was sad, the best thing was for Hansel was to move forward. It was hoped that he would earn his gold spurs himself in a few years.

The day of Henry's knighting ceremony began well enough. Queen Snow had just finished her speech and touched the flat of the royal sword on her heir's shoulders when the doors burst open. As the crowd gasped in horror, a black-clad woman swept majestically down the aisle towards the central dais. Her dress was as rich as Snow's, though more daringly cut, with a red cape providing eye-catching contrast.

"Sorry I'm late," she sneered. A flick of her hands sent the guards flying away.

"It's the Evil Queen!" someone shouted.

No. No, it couldn't be. Hansel was frozen in shock as he stared at the woman's face, clearly recognizable under the ornate headdress. _Captain Manzana?_

* * *

One year was like another. Each moment ticking by was another moment to be endured. Rumplestiltskin lay motionless for hours at a stretch, barely distinguishable from a corpse. He groped for glimpses of a world outside, but each stolen moment only taunted him with the impossibility of escape. Better were the days when his thoughts ran in endless dull circles.

Until everything changed. He knew the difference at once. The mortal Rumplestiltskin wouldn't have felt it, but the darkness that possessed him was the same darkness in every realm it existed in. The Rumplestiltskin that lived in Storybrooke was too preoccupied with saving his son to give much thought to stray visions, but the Rumplestiltskin in the dungeon cell was more receptive.

He woke up with a gasp, a drowning man breaking the surface of reality. Everything... everything was false. It had all been meaningless. Unless... unless fate favored him for once. He peered along the paths of destiny. There. He dredged up decades-old memories and plans. Yes. If he played everything exactly right, he had a chance.

And here she came, right on cue, the evil queen, the apprentice, drawn in by a well-timed laugh. Was it too much? No, no. He gripped the bars, finding his voice after years of solitude. "You! The queen!"

She had come for his help. Some things never changed. Well then. He provoked her with her own failures until she told him everything he needed to know.

A _wish_. This flimsy bubble of a realm had been created by a genie's wish. Not real, not real, none of them were real except for one soul.

"Emma. Emma the Savior!" He cackled uncontrollably. The little princess, the mother of his grandchild, was the foundation of the world, of this world, this _fake_ world, as Regina insisted. Not _his_ Regina, but another Regina, the _real_ Regina. A Regina who had the gall to say to his face that the world was better off with him behind bars. Well, she certainly wasn't alone in that opinion.

It didn't matter what she thought. What mattered was that she meant to take Emma away. With Emma gone, this world had no more substance than a dream. For a moment, he considered letting it go at that. Perhaps the other version of himself had it better. Then his survival instincts kicked in, and he bargained with this whitewashed edition of Regina for his freedom. Let her have Emma; as long as he had her name — his by right, traded to him by her parents — he had a thread binding wish to reality.

"What's the harm of letting a not-real me out of a not-real prison into a not-real world, hmm?" And he knew exactly what trade she wouldn't be able to resist: a way out of this wish-made realm.

"A magic bean."

And that was the promise that unlocked his cell at last. Free, for the first time in over thirty years.

* * *

"Your mother told you not to interfere," noted Hansel, even as he helped Henry into his armor. "But you're going to rush in anyway?"

"My mother is too softhearted! She doesn't know how treacherous the Evil Queen is."

Hansel sighed. "I can't believe it. She saved us before, sent us back home."

"That man who came for her... he did mention her revenge, and hinted it was my grandparents she was after."

"I suppose it makes sense. But why wait until now?"

"She's evil! You can't expect her to be reasonable."

Hansel sighed again. He handed Henry a sword. "But she has magic. And you have a sword..."

"So what? My grandparents defeated her once."

"But you're barely a knight!"

"And my father wasn't even that when he captured the Dark One, the most powerful sorcerer in the realm." Armor in place, Henry made for the door. "Are you coming or not?"

"Of course I'm coming with you." Hansel slipped on his mail hauberk, an easier matter than donning the plate armor that Henry wore, then grabbed a spear. The two of them crept with such stealth as they could manage to the upper chamber where the Evil Queen had taken her captives. When no magic barred their way, Hansel whispered to Henry, "The household guards tried to break in, but couldn't. Do you think this is a trap?"

Henry shook his head. "Maybe, but it's not meant for us. It was meant for my mother, and she's walked right into it." Henry hurried ahead, and Hansel knew he wasn't thinking about what _he_ was walking into.

And it was bad. Worse than the witch with the gingerbread house, thought Hansel. He arrived just in time, a step behind Henry, to see the Evil Queen crush two hearts — one in each fist. The king and queen toppled over in their chairs, dead in an instant. Henry's mother collapsed, sobbing, all the fight gone out of her. Whatever plan she had come up with had obviously failed.

"You murdered my grandparents, and for that, you will pay!" Henry strode forward, raising his sword.

Grimacing, Hansel joined him with his spear. To his surprise, the Evil Queen seemed reluctant to hurt them. Hansel hesitated, wondering if Captain Manzana had fallen under some curse. Or was there _another_ witch using her as a puppet? He opened his mouth to warn Henry, but a ripple of magic froze him in place.

In the blink of an eye, the Evil Queen had vanished, along with Princess Emma, and Hansel and Henry were alone in the room with Henry's dead grandparents. Henry was pale, shaking in rage and grief, still staring at the spot where the Evil Queen had been standing the moment before. Then he spun around, sword flashing. "Where did she go? Where's my mother?"

Hansel approached Henry, touching his shoulder gently. "I think... I think the Evil Queen took her. She... I think she must still be alive, or her body would be here with the king and queen."

"Oh gods. Why? Why... why aren't we dead, too?"

"I don't know," Hansel said in a low voice. He let Henry sink into his embrace and for a moment they leaned against each other wordlessly. Then, "She did save our lives once. Captain Manzana, I mean. She wasn't the Evil Queen then."

"I don't care." Henry straightened. He held up his sword. "Evil Queen Regina or Captain Manzana, she will pay. I swear before all the gods to avenge my mother and my grandparents."

"Henry, we couldn't even move to stop her."

"I'll find a way."

"Yes, but..." Then Hansel turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. The household guards had found them. Henry moved to meet them, explaining what had happened in a deathly calm voice.

 _Gods, he's the king now_ , Hansel realized. Fourteen years old, made a knight only hours before, and Henry was now the king of the Enchanted Forest, with all the new duties that entailed.

Vengeance would have to wait.


	9. The Hermit

**Author's note:** Wish!Robin doesn't go to Storybrooke in my version of events. There was a Wish!Robin, but he died offscreen years ago, and was basically the same as real Robin (but never met Regina). Regina and Emma go through the bean portal.

* * *

 _The Hermit Tarot card, numbered as the ninth Major Arcana, depicts an old man standing in the wasteland with a staff in one hand and a lantern in the other. We are alone and abandoned. Time to see where we are standing and find our own path. Our only illumination is what we carry ourselves._

* * *

It had been a good year for Captain Manzana. Regina's contract with Pan was broken, and she was truly a free agent for the first time in her life. With Facilier at her side, she and her crew ran enough successful missions that they could afford to take the winter season off. Regina took the _Malus_ to Kingsport, the capital of the Maritime Kingdom.

"They have the best seafood in this land," Regina said. "Which is slightly disturbing, when you consider that the queen is a mermaid."

"Well, cannibalism is a way of life under the sea. Not that it's unknown on the land, either," Facilier said.

"It's uncivilized," grumbled Regina.

"Not if you do it right." Facilier smirked, and Regina slapped his arm at the innuendo.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Facilier."

"By all means let us retire to this villa you've rented."

Two weeks later, their idyll was cut short by a voice speaking to Regina straight out of the air. She knew the source by the faint roar of the ocean that underlay the message: it came from one of the magical conch shells she left with her agents in seaports across the realm. It brought a smile to her face. "It's from young Henry. He wants to hire me."

"You made an impression," noted Facilier fondly, kissing her hand to make his point.

"He didn't divulge any details, but he sounded serious. So, ready for a trip to the Enchanted Forest?" Regina had been magically banished from the kingdom, but after thirty years, the spell had weakened. She still couldn't directly transport herself across the border, but as 'Captain Manzana', she could ride through the barrier.

Regina and Facilier bought horses and traveled overland. She left her crew behind, being unable to transport them all by magic if it came to that. Besides, what could the boy want that she and Facilier couldn't handle by themselves? They arrived at the capital of the Enchanted Forest to find it in a festive mood for the princess's birthday celebration. The inns were packed, forcing Regina and Facilier to find shelter in a nearby cave, magically enhanced for comfort.

"No chance of a discreet word with Prince Henry in that mob," said Regina. "I'll wait for a quiet moment afterwards."

The moment never came. Facilier woke up the next morning from a nightmare that left him shivering yet drenched in sweat. His eyes were wild and unfocused. He groaned, clutching his head, oblivious to Regina's frantic questions.

"They're gone," he mumbled, eventually. "Silent. Never there. Wrong."

Regina sat with him, holding him as if she could anchor him to reality. "Who's gone?"

"I am..." He shook his head violently. "Ahhh! No." He grimaced, clenching his jaw hard enough that Regina heard his teeth grate.

"Breathe," she urged him. "Easy... I'm here. Let me help."

"Nothing you can do," he said at last. Some of the tension eased from his face. "It's... think of it this way: even when there's no other noise, if you put your hands over your ears, you can hear the sound of your own blood."

"I suppose."

"It's like that. Only it's gone. Do you understand?"

She didn't. She raised a hand to her own head, but he caught her wrist.

"I'm not talking about blood, but the presence of the spirits. I could always feel them, you see. They're gone. The world is empty."

"I... I don't understand," Regina whispered. None of her magic revealed anything to her. She took out the Serendipity Deck to see what she could read in the cards. They came up blank. Every single one of them, no matter how she shuffled the deck or dealt the cards. "What...? This can't be right."

Facilier hissed. He picked up one of the empty cards and ran it through his fingers, then held it up to his face for closer examination. "These cards... they came from Wonderland?"

"Yes."

He dropped the card back into the pile. "I'm afraid they have no magic in them now."

"Impossible." But it was true. Regina met Facilier's eyes. "Something's happened, something big."

"Indeed." He seemed calmer now, but his voice betrayed an edge of fear and his hands still shook slightly. "I feel... I fear that I've been abandoned. Cut off." His eyes narrowed as he held up a hand, conjuring a light to his fingers. "Weaker."

"Look, stay here and rest, see if that helps. I'll go into town, find out what's going on."

"Take care, Regina. There may be danger."

Regina nodded. She cast a glamour over herself to walk unseen, then transported herself to the palace. _Her_ magic seemed to be working perfectly, all her skills as strong as they had been before the thirty years she had been cursed. She mingled with the crowd, listening and watching for any clue to explain the mystery.

And received the shock of a lifetime. Had time jumped a track?

The Evil Queen walked out of the past and straight into the throne room to wreak havoc on the royal family. Regina watched in disbelief as Snow and her shepherd were kidnapped. At that point she knew she couldn't let this imposter steal her name. She followed the 'Evil Queen' to the upper chamber...

...and was promptly knocked unconscious by the spells warding the hallway.

* * *

"It's impossible!" Regina woke up in the midst of an uproar, with the entire population of the Enchanted Forest baying for the Evil Queen's blood. Thankfully Regina's invisibility had held, and she made herself scarce before something could break it. "That woman, whoever she really is, overpowered me with barely a thought. Yet for a moment... I felt a connection. The magic felt like _mine_. Just... stronger."

Facilier frowned. "Hmm. And you say she killed Snow and her Charming consort, crushing their hearts."

"Yes. Exactly as the cards showed me all those years ago." She had never expected the prophecy to be fulfilled this way, and now she had to take all the blame and none of the satisfaction of revenge.

"So this was fated."

"Damn fate, playing games with me. Every time I think my life is mine, something like this happens!"

A pensive look crossed Facilier's face. "Perhaps. This reminds me of another prophecy a dead man once babbled to me. I took it for gibberish at the time, but..."

"Well, what did he say?" Regina asked when he didn't continue.

"The details elude me," sighed Facilier. "But I wrote it down in my journal."

"And that's, where, back in your shop? Let's go, then."

"What of your business here?"

"The meeting's off, considering there's a kingdom-wide hunt for a woman with my face. If Henry still wants to hire me, once this mess is cleared up..." Regina shrugged. "That's a bridge for another day."

* * *

The official coronation ceremony for King Henry was set a month hence, but with the sudden violent deaths of the rest of the royal family, they couldn't wait that long to establish the succession. To prevent the descent of chaos, Henry took the oaths of the Enchanted Forest nobles (the ones already in attendance for the princess's birthday) even before his grandparents were buried.

Hansel stood at his side, informally appointing himself as his friend's steward. Henry made it through the swearing of fealty on his feet, but his voice was flat with weariness and grief. Finally he was permitted to escape to his private chambers. Hansel stuck by him, making sure he didn't collapse along the way. Miraculously, he didn't have his breakdown until the doors were shut.

Hansel removed Henry's armor piece by piece as the young king stood with his fists clenched, tears streaming down his cheeks. Hansel's own eyes felt damp. They had both of them lost the only family they had.

But Hansel had had a month longer to come to terms with it, so he knew it fell to him to comfort his friend. Lightened of their physical load at least, Hansel led Henry to sit on the bed, hopefully to get some rest. It was a long time before Henry said anything, but Hansel hugged him as he sobbed wordlessly.

"It will be better in the morning," he whispered, kissing his friend on top of his head as Henry buried his face in Hansel's chest. "Nothing changes, but you'll be stronger. And they may be gone, but we have each other. I'll always be here for you — I swear it."

Henry looked just as ghastly in the morning, but Hansel coaxed him into eating, after ordering the servants to bring food to the prince's — king's — chambers.

"No one's seen any sign of the Evil Queen or your mother," Hansel told him, having quietly gathered the reports from the household guards and the commander of the kingdom's small standing army. "The fairies set new wards around the castle to keep her out, but they say they don't know where she went."

"Magic," said Henry dully. "None of us saw where she went. And I couldn't move! It was like I wasn't even in my body."

"I know. It was like that for me, too." Hansel wondered if it had been like that for Gretel — your own flesh turned into a cage as you waited helplessly for death to take you. Bandits would have been kinder. He shuddered, hating that magic could do this to people, and there was nothing to stop them. He wanted to believe a few feet of steel could stop anyone, but the brutal truth was that it couldn't. Then another thought occurred to him. "Your grandparents defeated the Evil Queen before, that's true. But I've heard that they had help. They had a curse they got from the Dark One."

"Yes... they don't — didn't — like to say so, but... yeah." Henry's eyes went wide as he stared over at Hansel. "Are you... are you suggesting...?"

"Well, you were the one who suggested hiring an outside party in the first place," Hansel said, trying to sound casual. "But if she really is the one who attacked us, then it's only logical to go over her head. So to speak."

"But... the _Dark One_ ," whispered Henry, as if afraid said sorcerer might hear him.

Hansel forced a smile. "Your father captured him and suffered nary a scratch. Maybe there's some power in your bloodline... anyway, he's locked in a dungeon. What's the harm in talking to him?"

"He's dangerous! Devious."

"Well, you're not stupid, either, Henry. As long as we keep our wits about us, we should be safe. Safer than running after the Evil Queen waving a sword!"

Henry gulped, then nodded. "All right. Do you know where his cell is?"

"Yeah. Gretel showed me. She... she was obsessed with... you know. Magic. She said she saw him once. But she didn't stay to talk to him. Wasn't worth the risk. Not then. But now? I think... maybe."

It wasn't easy to escape the watchful eye of the guards, now that Henry was the king, but after a day of coming to grips with the administration of the kingdom, he pleaded exhaustion and retreated to his chambers. Sneaking out the window was hardly a kingly act, but it worked. The cell was hidden in an abandoned dwarf mine.

"No guards?" Henry sounded surprised.

"Gretel said there used to be, but they were in danger of getting corrupted by the darkness, so once the kingdom was at peace, the queen had the Blue Fairy cast a spell," Hansel explained in a low voice. 'Corrupted by darkness' was one of those nebulous magical dangers that he hated to acknowledge, but Gretel had taken it seriously. "No one harboring ill intent is even supposed to be able to find the place, so maybe think about how much you loved your grandparents rather than how much you hate the Evil Queen..."

"I'll try."

"Yeah." Hansel paused, lifting his lantern to the wall to check the inscriptions on it. "This way, I think."

The cell was empty, the bars raised.

Hansel's eyes darted around the space, lifting up the lantern in case the Dark One was lurking in some crevice. Nothing. "I don't understand."

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Henry asked. He stepped gingerly over the threshold and peered around the cell.

"Yes. It has to be."

"Well, he's gone. Do you think he's behind the Evil Queen's attack?"

"I... I don't know. None of this makes sense. He had no quarrel with your grandparents," said Hansel. He examined the winch and rope that controlled the gate. It worked just like the ordinary portcullises in the castle gatehouse. Whatever magic was woven into it was beyond his perception.

"That was before they locked him up... Maybe this isn't such a good idea, Hansel."

"Someone must have let him out," Hansel guessed. "If he could have gotten himself out, he would have done it a long time ago."

Henry looked sharply at Hansel. "Your sister? You said she saw him..."

Hansel shook his head. "No! I don't... that was three years ago. She wouldn't have done that and not warned me." Gretel had her secrets, but she had always tried to protect him.

Henry sighed. "However it happened, he's not here."

"Who's not here?" The voice was pitched too high, and the giggle that followed was simultaneously cringe-worthy and terrifying.

Hansel and Henry drew their swords, instinctively standing shoulder to shoulder, angled to face any threat. Before they could react, the portcullis slammed down, the winch whirling of its own accord.

"Show yourself!" Henry's voice was harsh, but Hansel could hear the edge of fear underneath.

Hansel charged at the bars, but it was useless.

"Were you looking for me, dearies?" The man who sauntered out of the shadows was slightly built, vibrating with suppressed energy. He grinned at them, exposing blackened teeth. Clad all in leather, his glittering skin and reptilian eyes betrayed his inhuman nature.

"You... you're..." Hansel couldn't get the words out.

"Rumplestiltskin," the man finished. He bowed mockingly. "At your service... for a price."

"Open the gate," Henry ordered. "You have no right to imprison us."

"Perhaps not, but I find swords in my face an impediment to intelligent conversation."

Hansel slowly sheathed his sword and nudged at Henry to do the same. "We can't hurt him with them anyway. Remember what happened before."

Henry glanced sidelong at Hansel, then nodded and followed suit. "Fine. Anyway, we didn't come here to fight."

"Smart lads." Rumplestiltskin snapped his fingers. The portcullis raised itself with a sullen rattle. "Now tell me, why were you looking for the Dark One?"

"The Evil Queen murdered my grandparents and kidnapped my mother." Henry went straight to the point.

"Ah." The Dark One's expression was unreadable, but he nodded slowly. "Tell me everything." When Henry hesitated, the Dark One cackled. "Tch, didn't I move heaven and earth to ensure dear Snow and her true love's fruitful union? Would I do less for their grandson?"

"You know who we are?" Hansel blurted out. He stepped warily back out of the cell, Henry a step behind him.

"I keep myself informed. Come now, you found your way down here. Speak freely, or why bother?" The Dark One stalked, stiff-legged in his leather trousers, around the two boys. "Don't waste my time with half measures."

Bit by bit, between the two of them, the full story spilled out. The Dark One's unnerving mannerisms had an almost mesmeric effect on them. Hansel knew he couldn't trust the demonic sorcerer, but here in this dark cell, it seemed his only hope. Once the tale was told, the Dark One turned his back to them, pacing and rubbing his fingers as he mulled their words in silence.

"So? Can you help us defeat Captain Manzana, and rescue Henry's mother and avenge his grandparents?" asked Hansel at last.

"I could. But it's not 'Captain Manzana' you want. She had nothing to do with this," the Dark One said slowly.

"But we saw her," said Henry.

"Ah, ah, ah!" The Dark One held up a finger. "The woman you saw was the Evil Queen from another realm, with a different history than your Captain Manzana. To that Regina, your grandparents' lives meant nothing. She was here for your mother, and took Emma back to the other realm."

"Then we have to go there!" Henry stepped forward eagerly, his hand going to the hilt of his sword.

"It's not so easy." The Dark One let out another insane giggle, that sounded more like a cry of pain than an expression of mirth. In a lower voice, he added, "I tried for hundreds of years to find a way to that realm."

"Then you must know how," Hansel said.

"Of course. But it won't... it won't get you what you want." The Dark One's gaze was fixed on Henry, and Hansel wondered what he was thinking. There was something sad about those inhuman eyes. Then the face twisted into a mask of cheer, and the voice followed suit. "Tell you what. You be the best king you can be, and I'll look for a way to help you."

"That's very vague," muttered Hansel.

Henry watched the Dark One with the same intentness the Dark One had fixed on him. "You'll help us?"

"In time. As much as I can." The Dark One pivoted away, his hands flying up in a dismissive flourish. "Despite what you may have heard, the Dark One isn't actually omnipotent."

* * *

If he had been omnipotent, thought Rumplestiltskin, his grandson wouldn't be walking away from him, orphaned and family-less. Bae would be alive, and Emma...

He choked out an inarticulate curse and slammed his fist against the dungeon wall. Gods. It was Milah all over again. How could he tell Henry that his mother had abandoned him without a care? He had told young Bae that Milah was dead. This time, he had let Henry think the Evil Queen had stolen Emma. In a way, she had, in much the same sense that Hook had 'stolen' Milah.

Once again, he was left spinning truths and half-truths, trying to spare a child the pain of abandonment. How could he tell them that they didn't matter, because none of them were 'real'? Looking into his grandson's eyes, could he say that his suffering meant nothing?

 _It means nothing. They will all be gone in the blink of an eye. Only darkness is eternal._

Rumplestiltskin, this ersatz Rumplestiltskin, would be gone, too, when the world popped like a bubble — in a year, two years, ten at most. He was tempted to dig out another magic bean. He had found one for Regina in the grave of a giant and restored its power with the water of Lake Nostos; he was sure he could find another. Then a path to the Land Without Magic, to this 'Storybrooke'... to do what? Murder Emma for her faithlessness?

A nightmare vision of Emma with Killian Jones flashed across his mind's eye, and Rumplestiltskin laughed bitterly. History repeated itself, with little improvement. Emma's death would achieve nothing, no more than Milah's had. And he wouldn't outlive her by long, in any case, once the wish-made reality collapsed. And as for his other self...

Rumplestiltskin didn't want to know. He had seen his son's grave in a vision, a stranger's name on the tombstone. It seemed fate had cut Baelfire's life short in every version of reality. To meet the other Rumplestiltskin would only double their sorrow. The other vision he had glimpsed — a human-seeming Rumplestiltskin with a living Belle — he dismissed as wishful thinking. Belle was dead. After all these years, he had finally traced her remains — to Regina's magic castle, and not in Avonlea as Regina had told him.

 _She lied._ He could have wept at the irony. Regina had imprisoned Belle, and Rumplestiltskin had ensured Regina's defeat, but that defeat had killed Belle when the magic castle had been abandoned, its gates sealed shut. The castle was a ruin now. Nothing barred Rumplestiltskin from retrieving her bones from the lonely cell in the tower. By the marks scratched into the wall, she had been there for nearly two years.

 _Does it matter? None of you are real. Give yourself to the darkness. Put this world out of its misery. It will end anyway... you may as well have some fun in the process._

He could start with Regina. Or rather, 'Captain Manzana', as she was calling herself these days. Before he could act on the impulse, fate brought her right to his doorstep. He was tempted to shove her into the cell and lock her in. See how she enjoyed starving to death in a dungeon. Or would it be more amusing to strangle her with her own entrails? He did neither, choosing instead to step forward and speak.

"My, my, loads of visitors lately. Must be something in the air!" He couldn't stop the maniacal cackle that escaped his throat.

"Rumple! You're free?"

"Are any of us truly free?" At that moment, he felt they were no more than puppets dancing to the amusement of some demented god. Damn fate and its machinations.

"This is no time for games. There's something wrong with the world, and we need to fix it."

"Fix it?" Another hysterical laugh bubbled out. He flicked his wrist, a sack whipping into existence. He emptied it onto the floor. "Can we fix this?"

Regina stared as bones clattered out into a sad heap. "What is this?"

"I went looking for Belle..."

Regina gasped and took a step back, a fireball forming in her palm. "Rumple..."

He bared his teeth at her. "I should make you suffer for that."

"Please, Rumple. I... I didn't mean for her to die."

A quick tug at the darkness easily snuffed the fireball. "Well, dearie, if everything worked out according to what we _meant_ , we wouldn't be where we are." He watched Regina swallow nervously, her fingers twitching as she tried to reach for her magic through his block.

"And... where is that, exactly?"

Rumplestiltskin sighed. A wave of his hand sent the bones back into the sack and then into his otherspace vault. "Belle died in your castle, but that was also where you saved Henry's life. I suppose that earns you a measure of forgiveness."

"Henry?" Regina shot him a bewildered look. "Why would you care about Henry?"

"I have my reasons." Reasons which he kept to himself, but it was a delicate line between protecting the boy and endangering him by expressing overmuch concern. "Let's say I would be greatly irritated if someone removed him prematurely from the board."

"Fine. I have more important concerns. What do you know of prophecies of the end times?"

Rumplestiltskin chuckled darkly. "Taking up eschatology, are we? Not what I would have expected of the Evil Queen."

"It's been thirty years, Rumple. I've put that behind me." Thirty years, yet so easily she fell back into their old dynamic — impatient student, mercurial teacher. "And I've recently read some disturbing texts."

"Yes, I imagine it's disturbing to find out that the world will end within the decade."

Regina stared at him in shock. "You mean it's true?"

"Yes, dearie. I've recently been visited by someone claiming to be the real Regina. Imagine my surprise at finding her claim at least half-true."

"The imposter! The one who killed Snow and David and kidnapped their daughter..." Fury suffused her face. "Where is she?"

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "Haven't you been listening? She really is the real Regina. We are but shadows conjured for a brief moment of illumination, soon extinguished to the endless void."

The color drained from Regina's face. "No. No... you're serious? But you must have a plan. You of all people won't simply fade away! You always have a plan."

Rumplestiltskin giggled. "Such, such confidence you have in the Dark One. I'm flattered." He waved a hand with deliberate casualness. "But yes. I may have an idea or two."

"And it involves that boy, Henry?"

"Mmm. Not telling." He paced back and forth, making Regina wait. Finally, he snapped his fingers in her face. "The Dark Curse. It wasn't at your castle. You have it, don't you?"

Regina frowned in suspicion. "I may have picked it up last time I was there."

"Give it back to me. With the right modifications, it may save us all."

She hesitated. "Not even the Dark Curse is that powerful."

"But it could be."

"And the price to cast it? No. You're not manipulating me again into casting it for you... I'd rather die than kill—"

"Ah yes. Your necromantic paramour." Rumplestiltskin grinned viciously at her. "But if you won't do it, I'm sure I can find someone else willing to make the sacrifice."

Regina glared at him, but reluctantly brought out the scroll. "Fine. Have it. But only if you promise to do your best to save our world."

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "Our world is doomed. But I promise to save as many of its people as I can."

Regina sighed and surrendered the scroll. "Very well."


	10. The Five of Cups

_The Five of Cups card depicts a cloaked figure turned away in dejection. Three of his cups are overturned, and that's all he can see, though two remain upright. A river flows past, a bridge crossing it to a distant town. Guilt, loss, failure, pain, self-pity... you can lash out or wallow or you can take the bridge and get over it. Move on, move on!_

* * *

The first wish brought Alice to her father. It took its price from her in time, as much time as it would have taken to walk every step on her feet. The days passed in a blur of color, and she felt as if she had been blown across the worlds by a rainbow storm.

"At least I didn't wear out seven pairs of iron shoes," she told herself. Her last step brought her to a doorway. On the other side she found him at last.

Her father was working in a merchant's office as a clerk. That wasn't so surprising — in her travels she had found that literacy was an uncommon skill, and the lack of a hand wasn't a hindrance — but time had taken its toll on him and it took her a moment to recognize him.

"Papa?" She approached his desk and smiled at him.

He glanced up, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Excuse me, did you say...?"

"Papa, it's me, Alice."

"Starfish! You're free!" He moved forward to embrace her, but the curse seized him and flung him back, and he cried out in pain.

"Sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Papa." Alice skittered out the door, hiding behind the frame and peeking in at him. When the wish had brought her so close, she couldn't help hoping that maybe the poison had worn off.

"No, wait, don't go." Her father picked up the papers he had knocked off his desk, straightening his work. "How did you get out? How did you find me? You look..." He gestured vaguely at Alice. The years had changed her, as well, but less than one might expect.

"I spent ten years as a statue."

"You what?"

She explained haphazardly, in bits and pieces, in between people coming and going to see him while he finished up his assignments for the day. Afterwards, he took her to the room he had rented. If not for the bed in the corner, she could have taken it for an alchemist's workshop, full of books, scrolls, potion ingredients, and equipment. "What's all this, Papa? Are you a wizard now?"

Her father scratched the back of his neck in apparent embarrassment. "It's like this, Starfish... I went to countless mages and hedge witches in hopes of finding a cure for my poisoned heart, but alas, to no avail. When it comes down to it, the only person I could trust to have my best interests at heart was myself."

"Well, now you have me, Papa." Alice grinned at him from across the room. She took out her pouch of wishing powder. "I've been looking for a cure, too, and I met a pretty sorceress who told me where to find this. It's wishing powder."

"Aye?" Her father's eyes gleamed with interest. He caught the pouch with his good hand and opened it. "How does it work?"

"Sprinkle a bit on yourself and think of what you want."

"That's easy. To be able to be with my daughter again." He set the pouch down on a table and extracted a handful of dust. "Wish me luck."

Alice crossed her fingers — on both hands — and nodded. The dust shimmered, settling over her father and sinking into his skin. For a moment, reality wavered. Everything went dark, and it was as if a curtain had dropped in front of her, only she could almost see another world on the other side of the curtain.

Then the moment passed and her father was curled on the floor, hand clutching at his chest, groaning in agony. Green light shone between his fingers, the mark of the curse. Worse, the emerald lines streaked out from his heart, crawling across his face, withering skin across brittle bone.

"Papa!" Alice ran instinctively towards him, but the light burned even brighter. "No, no, hold on, Papa, there must be a way..." Her gaze darted frantically around the room, searching for anything that might help (but he didn't have one, obviously, or he would have used it already) and nothing, she had to leave him again... and there was still one pinch of powder left, because wishes came in threes and they had used two. She grabbed the pouch from the table and held it open as she flung the contents over him. She closed her eyes and wished, imagining her father hale and strong before her. "Papa, please, come back to me!"

She held her breath, not daring to open her eyes. Her father had stopped screaming. His breathing was still labored, but she could hear him shuffling to his feet.

Then he cleared his throat, and called out tentatively, "Alice?"

She raised her right eyelid a crack. Then both eyes shot wide open and her jaw dropped. He was restored. More than restored. "You... you're young again, Papa!"

He looked down at himself in bewilderment. "I don't understand."

"Oh. Oh, I see." Alice smiled in realization. "I wished for the Papa I remembered. And that was the memory of you I carried for years and years.

He sighed, looking at her in longing. "Powerful stuff, your wishing powder."

The smile fell from her face. "Not powerful enough to lift your curse."

"It's not your fault, Starfish." Her father gave her a resolute nod. "This is good. You're out of the tower and we've found each other. We're not going to give up." He gestured. "There is so much I'm still learning. I may yet find the cure."

"I'll help you," Alice promised. "I'll find that sorceress, see if she knows why the wishing powder didn't work."

"She's here." Henry handed Hansel a folded paper. "This was under my cup this morning."

Hansel frowned. "There wasn't anything when the tray was brought into your chambers. I checked."

"Magic. I guess at this point we shouldn't be surprised." Henry nodded at the paper. "She says she didn't kill the king and queen, that it was an imposter. She's willing to meet us, but if we don't come alone, she says we'll regret it."

Hansel snorted. They had faced the Dark One himself, what else was there to be afraid of? "Do you think we should go?"

"I want to talk to her." Henry sighed. "Maybe it really wasn't her who killed my grandparents, but... she was still the Evil Queen once. She might know something to help us with the other one. And even if she can't, there's still the mission we wanted to hire her for..."

"No, Henry, that can wait. You... you have important responsibilities here. You can't go running off on some quest."

Henry looked at him unhappily. "Your family is just as important as mine, Hansel. It's not fair to put you off when you've lost someone, too..."

"But it's not just our families. You have a whole kingdom to think about." Hansel gripped his friend's hand. "It's all right, Henry. It's just how it is."

Henry dropped his gaze to the paper. "But the kingdom can spare one squire. If... if it turns out that Captain Manzana really is the woman who saved us, and not the one who murdered my grandparents, then... well, it's worth a try, isn't it? See if she can help you with Gretel."

"And if she proves trustworthy, we can get her to help us find your mother and avenge your grandparents," said Hansel.

They slipped off again that night. Captain Manzana met them on a deserted hilltop near the town. It was damp and forbidding, overgrown with stunted trees, bare-branched as winter approached.

"An imposter?" Henry confronted the captain boldly, hand at the hilt of his sword. "I'm told she wasn't so much an imposter as a version of you from a different world. That means you did want to kill my grandparents once upon a time, and you're only alive today because they had mercy on you."

"'Told'? By whom?"

"The Dark One. So don't try lying to us," said Henry.

Hansel nodded in confirmation, watching the captain warily, comparing her to the 'Evil Queen' who had interrupted Henry's knighting ceremony. Their features looked identical as far as he could see, only their clothing and posture differing.

"You've been talking to the Dark One?" The captain sounded both impressed and amused. "My, my. Did you make a deal with him? If so, I expect you don't need my services anymore."

"No, wait," Hansel broke his silence, lifting a hand as if to hold her back. "We still want to hire you."

Captain Manzana raised an elegant eyebrow. "Oh? If I was, as you say, once your grandparents' enemy, why would I assist you now?"

"You did before," Henry reminded her. "Even after you knew who I was. Anyway, this job isn't for me. It's for Hansel."

"We'll pay." Hansel hefted a small bag of coins. "Half now, half when it's done."

"And what is 'it', exactly?" She watched them curiously, and Hansel had the impression it was that curiosity that moved her, more than the promise of money.

"I need to find out the truth about my sister's death." Hansel explained what had happened, and Henry corroborated the details.

"Very well. Not my usual line of work, but I think I can help you with that."

The next day, Hansel set off with Captain Manzana for Opona.

Rumplestiltskin muttered apologies to Belle's bones, still contained inside the canvas sack. "She had to see. I had to make her see what she'd done. You didn't deserve to be caught between two monsters."

He transported himself back to Baelfire's tomb, where he had spent the bulk of his time since being freed. It was set off in a space of its own, marked by polished stones inscribed with paeans and tributes to his sacrifice, as befit a prince of the realm. A far more elaborate memorial than the simple wooden cross he would have rated as a boy soldier fallen in the ogre wars three centuries ago, but none of that lessened the pain in his father's heart. The two people he had loved most were dead, and he knew it was his fault.

Too much of a coward to hold onto the ones you love, too weak to protect them.

"Oh, Bae, I wish you could have met her. But my wishes have no power, do they? And it's too late for you. Neither of you... neither of you ever existed as anything more than memory." With a swirl of magic, he laid the sack of bones to rest near his son. "May those memories be at peace."

But his own memories were anything but peaceful. He had let light imprison him, let light banish darkness to a dungeon for thirty years. Light had not saved them.

"Reul Ghorm!" The Dark One traced the fairy easily. She had been at the royal castle mere days ago. The depths of the Infinite Forest couldn't hide her from him. "Reul Ghorm. I know you're lurking here, you hypocritical gnat." He channeled all his anger into a compulsion spell. "Reul Ghorm, show yourself!"

A speck of blue light fluttered out of the darkness, resolved itself into the tiny form of the fairy. "Dark One."

"You broke our deal," Rumplestiltskin hissed.

Kill her.

"We had no deal." Arrogant and self-righteous as ever, the Blue Fairy said primly, "Good doesn't bargain with darkness."

"Liar!"

Crush her.

"I'm not the liar."

"That's a lie," growled Rumplestiltskin. His voice rose in fury. "My son refused dark magic. He delivered me to your tender mercies, yet you refuse to acknowledge your debt?"

"Good asks no reward. You would understand that if your heart were not rotten to the core."

"You had enough power to imprison the Dark One, but not enough to protect Baelfire from the ogres? You had the insight to meddle in the Dark Castle, releasing Belle when it suited you, but not when it would have saved her life?" He clenched his fists, fighting back the urge to lash out at this treacherous creature. Memories slipped. He was in another wood, in another skin. "You may have made no deal, but what about the child given into your care? You let her take him! My son was lost to twenty-eight years of torment... because of you." His vision blurred, and the power rose, drawn from the depths of darkness.

She flinched then, reaching for her wand, but there was no escape now. She gasped, but her words choked and died as magic tightened around her throat. Fear flooded her eyes as she pleaded mutely for mercy.

Rumplestiltskin barked a brutal laugh. "Oh, I'm not planning to kill you, dearie."

He dragged her out of the sky. His fingers closed around her neck as she took human form. He snarled, his eyes burning as he focused on the power bound inside her. He laid his other hand on her forehead and forced darkness through her shields, cracking them open. Light flared. White fire seared his bones, but he endured the pain and took it all.

In another world, light flowed into a broken sword. In this one, it settled inside Rumplestiltskin himself, contained through sheer force of will. And he didn't stop until the Blue Fairy collapsed, drained of every last drop of magic.

For a long time, Rumplestiltskin stood there, swaying slightly, eyes open but unseeing, his breath coming in labored pants while Blue lay at his feet. Finally, he blinked and woke from his trance. He waved a hand, conjuring a glass coffin for the inert form. He set her in it, then leaned over to whisper in her unhearing ear, "Remember this, dearie? Snow White's coffin. And the cure is the same for you as your little princess. Your heart has stopped, but it takes only a kiss to restart it. Surely such a beacon of light and goodness as the Blue Fairy has someone who loves her truly and sincerely."

He leaned back and cocked his head as if waiting for a reply. When none came, he giggled nastily. "Ah, what's that? You don't? My mistake."

He shut the lid on the fairy with another swoosh of magic. Leaving the coffin to wait in the wild heart of the Infinite Forest, Rumplestiltskin took himself back to his castle. Squatters had taken up residence. A conjuration of fear demons sent them screaming through the gates and down the mountain. He sealed the boundaries behind them with a fresh layer of blood magic and retreated to his workroom along with a selection of arcane tomes.

Trying to ignore the foreign magic boiling in his blood, he focused on his task.

The curse. Darkness. Light. Two worlds, one real, one not. There must be a way to shift that balance.

Alice felt a sharp stab of betrayal when she found out that Drizella Tremaine was working for Gothel, and she wasn't even sure why. She barely knew the woman. But she had liked her. In some sense, she had come out of her stone tower for Drizella. So it hurt to find her answering the gate at Gothel's garden.

"How could you?" The accusation flew out of her mouth in lieu of any words of greeting.

Drizella's jaw dropped. "...Alice? What are you doing here?"

"How could you work for that vile woman?" Alice jabbed a finger in her face, causing Drizella to flinch back, eyes narrowing.

Drizella caught the finger, glancing around quickly. She hissed, "Shut up. We can't talk about that here." She waved her other hand, transporting both of them to a clearing in the woods. She picked up a long stick and drew a circle around them in the leaf litter, muttering an incantation that flared up in a haze of brown mist. "There. That's for any eavesdroppers. Now, do you mean Mother Gothel?"

"Of course I mean Gothel, and she's been no mother to me," growled Alice.

"Wait, what?"

"You need to get away from her. She's evil." Alice grabbed Drizella's sleeve, tugging at her to start walking. Any direction, as long as it was away from Gothel's bloody garden.

"Stop it. Calm down, will you?" Drizella freed her sleeve from Alice's grip. "I know what she is. But I have to stay."

Alice frowned at Drizella. "Why?"

"I swore to bring her down, and to do that, I need to learn her powers and weaknesses first. If I tried and failed... well, let's not dwell on that." Drizella sighed. "Besides, my mother thinks I'm spying on Gothel, while Gothel thinks I'm spying on my mother, but it's really Ana that Gothel is interested in, and I have to find out why. It's a delicate situation all around."

"I'll say. And here I was thinking Wonderland was messy." Alice sat down on a rock just inside Drizella's circle and kicked at the fallen leaves. They stuck to her foot in wet clumps.

Drizella scoffed. "That's not even getting into my other sister's plot to avenge our father. But never mind that. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Ah. That." Alice looked down at her foot. "I wanted to ask you about the wishing powder. It didn't work on my father's poison."

"Oh. I... I'm sorry." Drizella sounded sincere, and Alice risked a peek at her face. She saw no lie.

"Yeah." Remembering what Drizella had said at their first meeting, Alice asked, "Did it work on your sister?"

"No. No, it didn't."

"Oh. I'm sorry, too."

"Yeah, well." Drizella joined Alice on the rock. "Here, budge up. I'll tell you what Gothel told me."

"I suppose that could be useful — if she wasn't lying." Alice was surprised Drizella would trust Gothel to tell the truth. She felt Drizella shrug lightly.

"Take it as you will. According to her, my sister's death was the result of my father's choice to save my other sister first. To reverse her death is to reverse that choice. Waking Ana would cost Ella's life." Drizella poked balefully at the ground with her stick. "And no wishing powder is powerful enough to change that."

Alice's heart sank. That did sound likely, from her own experience with magic, and she said as much.

"Yeah. And as for your father — you didn't tell me Gothel was the one who cursed him! — he, too, made a choice that opened a crack in his soul. To heal him requires the sacrifice of a pure heart."

Alice winced. "He wouldn't want that."

"Right, but it would have been nice to know that beforehand, because Gothel said that what the wishing powder can do is to bend fate to make those outcomes more likely."

"What?" Alice jumped up from the rock and spun around to stare in horror at Drizella. "You mean I've doomed someone without even knowing it?"

Drizella looked away, flushing. "Welcome to the club."

"Well, it's not right. We have to fix this." Alice set her hands on her hips. "You can't just give up."

"I didn't say I was. But it won't help to blunder about making things worse."

"If I had another dose of wishing powder, could I reverse the effect?" Not that she had one, but...

"Possibly. Do you have any left?"

"No. You?"

"Gothel took it. And we can't get any more, you know. Three wishes is all you get in a lifetime."

"Gothel took it? What did she use it on?" It was still powerful magic, thought Alice. Her other two wishes had done wonders.

"She used it to get an answer from the Tree of Wisdom," said Drizella. "I have no idea what it told her, but it must have worried her. She's been more secretive and high-strung lately. You need to stay out of her way, Alice."

"Why, I didn't know you cared."

Drizella shot her a pained look, then covered it with a smirk. "I don't. I'd rather she didn't wring my secrets out of you."

The secrets Drizella had just confided in her? Alice shook her head. "I'll be careful. You're the one in danger, staying with Gothel. And people call me mad!"

"I know what I'm doing." Drizella stood up, dropping the stick and brushing off her clothes. "Good bye, Alice." She vanished in a cloud of smoke.

"Now that's rude," grumbled Alice. Well, she wasn't having it. She started trudging back towards Gothel's garden, not sure what she meant to do, but having the last word was definitely in there somewhere. And probably an offer to help, because even if the wishing powder hadn't worked on Papa, Drizella was the only reason Alice had been able to try it at all.

Hansel led Captain Manzana to Gretel's grave. "Here. At least that's what the marker says."

Captain Manzana nodded. "Now, the easiest way to find out the truth is to ask her what happened."

Hansel stared at her incredulously. "She's dead. I don't think she can talk."

"Not to you or me, but... well... my friend is something of a specialist in such matters." The captain crouched next to the grave and took out a pouch of ashes, using it to draw a strange sign on the ground.

"You called?" A man appeared in a swirl of black smoke.

Hansel grabbed at his spear. "What... how?"

The man tipped his hat at Hansel. "And greetings to you, young sir." Then he smiled slightly at Captain Manzana, quirking an eyebrow. "More good deeds?"

The captain glanced at Hansel and snorted. "They're paying surprisingly well." She gestured at the man. "This is Doctor Facilier."

Hansel nodded in belated recognition. The sorcerer had appeared from nowhere last time, too, on that island where they had gone to rescue the princess. "I remember. You helped us last time."

"Ah, yes. Under rather different circumstances." Facilier shot the captain a meaningful look.

"I thought this would be a chance to test your theory." The captain explained their mission, while Hansel wondered what 'theory' they were talking about.

"Indeed." Facilier took a deep breath, then moved towards the grave, brushing his fingertips over the name carved into the wooden marker. He closed his eyes. "Hmm. Margarethe, called Gretel, sister of Hans." Then he turned his head to regard Hansel. "Time was I could have summoned her spirit to walk among us with as much substance as you like, but this is not that time. A veil has fallen over the world, and I am left grasping at shadows."

"That's more than we have now. Divination has never been my strong suit," said the captain. "Let's see what you've got."

Facilier nodded. He stretched a hand into the air above Gretel's grave, his brow furrowed in concentration. A translucent shape formed around his hands. It slowly gained clarity and detail.

"Gretel!" Hansel gasped. Then he bit his lip, not daring to distract the sorcerer. Suddenly, the ghostly image began thrashing violently. Another figure faded into existence; the two were locked in a deadly struggle. Hansel saw the flash of metal. Gretel fell, mortally wounded. A moment later, both shapes vanished, but not before Hansel saw their faces.

"Drizella." Hansel spat out the name. She had lied to his face. "I knew it. She killed my sister." He clenched his fingers around his spear. "I swear by my name to avenge her death."

Facilier let his hand drop back to his side. He swayed on his feet, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and leaned against the captain's shoulder heavily. "Not entirely useless, eh?"

"Never," said Captain Manzana. Then she turned towards Hansel. "I believe that fulfills the terms of our agreement. Now you know who killed your sister."

Hansel started to hand the captain the second half of her fee, then stopped. "No. We're not done. That woman is one of Gothel's coven. She's a sorceress."

The captain's fingers closed on the coins. "We are done. You know the truth. It wasn't bandits. If you want us to kill for you, that'll cost you."

Hansel winced, but let her take the money. It was all he had. Any more, he would have to beg from Henry, but Henry was the king now, which meant Hansel would be requesting public funds for a personal vendetta. Henry couldn't even be seen to be involved in something like this, lest it jeopardize relations between Opona and the Enchanted Forest.

"I don't..." He swallowed, reminding himself that the blood debt was his to collect, and it would be dishonorable to put it on a stranger. "Don't need you to kill her. But she has magic and I don't. I just need... a fair battle. I'll do the rest. How much for that?" He could borrow from a moneylender. It didn't matter how long repayment took, as long as Gretel was avenged.

Captain Manzana looked him up and down, considering. Then Facilier touched her arm.

"If I may..." he said softly. At the captain's nod, he snapped his fingers. A round metal object materialized in his grasp. "We can take this in trade."

Hansel gasped, fumbling in his vest. No. How? That was his father's compass. Ivo had given it to Gretel, and she had given it to Hansel. "That's mine!"

"Of course. You could hardly trade it otherwise." Facilier let Hansel take the compass back. "Well?"

Hansel traced the brass casing with a trembling finger. It was all he had left of his father. Of course, that was what made it valuable. Gretel had taught him something of the price of magic — that was one of the reasons he preferred the honesty of sword and spear. But others were not so reticent, and there was a price to not using magic, too. "All right." Hansel handed the heirloom over to the sorcerer. "You can have this, in exchange for helping me avenge my sister's death. But this is my quest — it's nothing to do with Henry."

Facilier nodded, accepting the trade. "Agreed."

Hansel glanced at Captain Manzana in question.

She smiled. "Oh yes, I'm in, too."

Alice caught up with Drizella, not at Gothel's garden, but on the road half a mile away, in the middle of a whirl of magic and steel. What the hell was she doing there?

Fighting for her life. Alice counted the odds. Not good. One Drizella, versus two sorcerers and a boy with a spear.

"Stop! Stop it, what are you doing?" Alice charged in, arms flailing. Why were people so violent? This was becoming a terrible habit, the kind of thing that would get her killed — she knew that perfectly well, but you had to protect your friends, and she wanted Drizella to be her friend. Which would never happen if she died in the next ten seconds. She spun around, deploying her fiercest glare. "Leave her alone."

"Alice," gasped Drizella, unable to manage any more words as she fought to breathe.

"Out of the way." The boy with the spear returned her glare for glare. "She's a monster. She killed my sister!"

The man and the woman flanking the boy glanced at Alice, but kept their focus on Drizella. Alice sensed the tug of magic between the three — a battle Drizella was losing. Alice looked at Drizella. "You killed his sister?"

Drizella winced, but didn't deny it.

Alice turned back to the boy. "There must be more to the story. She saved my life, you know. Or, actually, you don't know, and that's the problem. A problem that isn't solved by stabbing her..."

"I know enough," retorted the boy. "If you try to stop me, I'll kill you, too."

"No, wait!"

He didn't wait. He lunged forward, the spear too fast for her to catch. Her hands closed futilely around the shaft a fraction of a second after the point plunged into her abdomen. From behind her, she felt Drizella trying to push her out of the way. Too late.

Alice stared at the boy in shock. The earth seemed to tremble underneath her. Then massive arms seemed to sweep her up, and she knew no more.

"What the hell?" Hansel leaped back, instinctively dropping the spear, his hands burning. The spear hit the ground as a scattering of gravel. Magic. Accursed magic. Stone swallowed wood, swallowed skin and flesh and blood. He was looking at two statues. Bland, grainy rocks in the shape of two women locked together in their defeat.

"Let me see that." Captain Manzana turned to him, reaching for Hansel's hands, turning them palm up. She hissed at the gritty gray dust coating them, the leather of his gauntlets eaten away where they had touched the spear. "Hmm."

Facilier examined the statues warily. "This is very odd magic. I've never seen a spell quite like this before."

"Can you break it?" asked Hansel. Was he to be cheated out of his vengeance?

Captain Manzana joined Facilier at the statues. "Is it some kind of curse?"

Facilier rapped his cane on the stone. "Hmm. It had a core of imprisonment and containment. But not aimed at your sister's murderer, I think. No, it landed on our stranger here and Drizella was caught in its wake."

Captain Manzana eyed Hansel speculatively. "Looks like you let go just in time. Lucky."

"Where did the spell come from? Who cast it?" Hansel looked around uneasily. "Was it Gothel?"

Captain Manzana shook her head. "We're warded from Gothel's sight. I'm not even sure how she found us." She poked a finger at the stranger.

Facilier circled the statues, then leaned over to sniff at the stone. "Mmm. This is... it's an old spell. Could even be centuries. Strong."

"Stronger than my magic," the captain acknowledged. She glanced sidelong at Facilier. "You?"

"As things stand currently..." Facilier sighed and shook his head. "It is beyond my strength as well."

Hansel ground his teeth. "So she's escaped."

"I wouldn't say that, child," said the captain. "As strong as the spell is, I don't think either of them is getting free anytime soon. Drizella may not be dead, but she may well wish she were."

Facilier nodded. "Their souls are bound here. If they were dead, there would be the possibility of moving on."

"What if we destroyed the statues?"

"I have no idea. Shall we find out?" Captain Manzana shot an arc of lightning at the Drizella statue, but it splashed off to no apparent effect. "Hmm. Maybe a more physical approach." She waved a hand. When the smoke cleared, she was holding a hammer and chisel, both of which she offered to Hansel. "You try. Your anger may give you an edge."

Hansel's anger gave him nothing but extra frustration when the statues proved impervious to brute force.

"As I said, strong magic." Facilier eased Hansel back, taking the tools from his aching hands. "Best leave it at that."

"Well..." Captain Manzana stepped forward again, laying a hand on the stranger's left shoulder. "We can't break in, but perhaps we can prevent them from breaking out." She concentrated for a moment, then stepped back. "I've ensured that their minds sleep as stone sleeps. Magic requires volition, and stone has none."

"Is that vengeance enough?" Facilier asked in a gentle tone.

"I don't... maybe." Hansel glared at the statues. Gretel was dead. Was justice satisfied? A fate worse than death? Facilier wanted him to think so, but Hansel didn't trust him. "For now. Yes."

"In that case, it's time to be getting back. Young King Henry did imply an interest in employing me for further services," said the captain.

Hansel felt a twist of guilt at that. He had run off and left Henry to face everything alone. He cursed his own selfishness. It was time to go back. "Yes, yes, you're right. Let's go."

Wards don't last forever, of course. A few hours later, Gothel went looking for her apprentice and found her locked in stone behind Alice. Gothel had no trouble recognizing either her daughter or the magic that trapped her.

"I could have told you that escape is only temporary, child. If you're too weak to do as I did, then you'll never be free." She left them where they stood. It was a pity to lose a promising apprentice (useful pawn) but Drizella wasn't essential to her plans. The Tree of Wisdom had shown her what was needed to escape this crumbling realm.

Author's note: In my head-canon, crosses are used as grave markers in the Frontlands, just with a different symbolism than in our world (the Enchanted Forest not being Christian as far as I can tell), which is why Rumple made one for Belle in 7.04.


	11. Something New

**Author's note:** I am assuming a significant level of homophobia (worse against male couples than f/f) and misogyny in fairy-tale land, which is mostly consistent with what I saw (and didn't see) on screen. Also, assume my usual head-canon of Rumplestiltskin as panromantic demisexual.

* * *

Winter isolated the Dark Castle from any mundane intrusion. Snow fell, muffling the sharp edges of the world in a cold blanket.

It couldn't hide the truth from the Dark One. Day or night, Rumplestiltskin fit the pieces of the Dark Curse back into his mind, line by line. He ran the calculations and rebuilt the spell forms, reshaping them to accommodate his new visions. A solution. An escape. A transfiguration.

It could be done.

 _The price is too high!_ screamed the voices of the darkness within him.

But it could be done. Should it? Rumplestiltskin sat at the spinning wheel, straw twisting into gold thread as it passed through his fingers. Unreal, real, one changing into the other. He knew what it would cost him. Both of him, all of him, in every world.

 _You can't do it._

He could. Out of a selfish desire to live, if nothing else.

 _You will die._

Everyone died. He could live a little longer.

 _You could live forever. The Dark One is immortal._

That was a lie. _He_ would die.

 _Does it matter? Everyone you love is dead already. Who will you live for? Let go._

And it was true. He was so tired. Darkness exhausted him. If he wasn't real, what did it matter if he stopped fighting? Darkness could escape and ravage all the realm, but it wasn't real, either. Darkness could devour his grandson, but the real Henry would remain untouched. A trace of this distorted shadow life might survive as a premonition, a nightmare, a cautionary tale — but nothing more, once this realm ceased to exist.

Rumplestiltskin spun his thread. He remembered that he had made a deal with Regina. _His_ Regina, the captain of the good ship _Malus_.

 _Our world is doomed. But I promise to save as many of its people as I can._

They would be safe even if he did nothing — as memories safely tucked away in the minds of the _real_ versions of themselves. Stories people told themselves of might-have-beens and there-but-for-the-grace-of-fate-go-I's. He could strengthen those memories. It would cost less, and it was a mercy to fade gently into fiction. Wasn't it?

Was it? He abruptly transported himself to the library. _Her_ library. She had loved her stories, his strange little maid who had left home and family with her favorite novel stowed away close to her heart. The one on the table now wasn't her favorite, but it was the last one she had been reading before he had sent her away.

Rumplestiltskin hadn't set foot in this room since he had lost her, but now he picked up the book and sat down with it in the armchair he had conjured for her. He opened the pages at random, but his eyes wouldn't focus through his tears. A story that ended badly. That was all they were. To make them more than that would only bring pain.

He brushed his fingers over the spine, caressed the paper. Instead of reading, he let his eyes fall shut. His thoughts drifted and he sought sleep for the first time since he had returned to the Dark Castle, hoping for clarity in dreams.

He found no clarity. He only knew he had to make the attempt. She would tell him to try.

He tried, then, replacing straw with the magic of the Dark Curse. The wheel spun, and he let the curse run through his fingers, binding it to the darkness of his own curse. He tried. He failed.

Darkness laughed at his failure. _I said you couldn't do it, and I was right. Darkness destroys. Darkness rends._

Darkness could rip a soul apart, but to have the pieces fall together just right on the other side of the veil? Not even the light he had taken from Reul Ghorm could give him what he wanted.

"Darkness destroys, darkness rends... darkness mends, darkness heals!" he insisted. It _was_ possible. He had done it before. Darkness always left a scar, but his continued existence in the face of centuries of being shot, stabbed, burned, and starved was testament enough to the power of darkness to heal as well as wound.

 _Flesh and bone are easy to break and easy to mend. Souls and reality are not so pliable. You intend to pour all your power into a spell doomed to fail. You will be nothing but an empty husk, and the darkness will be freed of its bonds..._

"Shut up! Shut the hell up! I've heard it all, a thousand thousand times and it never changes, does it?" Rumplestiltskin sprang up from the spinning wheel and picked up his old stick, which he promptly swung with all his strength into the nearest display cabinet.

He screamed and he raged and he broke every glass door and every fragile trophy on display. Then he flung the stick away and started on the plates, smashing them into the walls and the floor one at a time.

"It never changes until someone changes it! I will change it!" He summoned darkness and threw the next plate at the ceiling. It crashed and broke, falling to the floor in hundreds of shards. "Not like that!"

He tried again. Again it broke.

When he reached the next stack of plates, he used his stolen light magic instead. The plate hit the ceiling, bounced, and fell to the floor, perfectly intact. Rumplestiltskin picked it up. "Not like that, either!" He smashed it on the edge of the dining table and tossed the pieces into the growing mess on the floor.

Finally he ran out of plates. He stood in the midst of the debris, hands clenched at his side, panting and trembling as his rage dissipated, giving way to a more quiet frustration. It was possible. He just couldn't work out the method. Too many years rotting in a magic-proof cell had done nothing to improve his skills. He needed to do more research.

He returned to the library, this time poring over ancient grimoires and wizards' journals rather than novels. He read and took notes, for days, for weeks, until his eyes glazed over. He fell asleep in his armchair with one of Merlin's spellbooks in his lap.

He woke up to find the pages of the book transformed into dry leaves.

 _Burn it!_ The darkness recognized the attack before he did. Flames engulfed the book, and Rumplestiltskin dropped it with a snarl. Something had invaded his castle. Something sly, slithering in under his notice.

Extending his senses, he found himself surrounded by an infestation of foreign tendrils. Ice and water seeped into the foundations of the castle, roots following, cracking and breaking what should have been impregnable. Dark magic exploded out of his vault.

Rumplestiltskin reached frantically to contain the power before it destroyed everything. Already strained from the light magic he had stolen from the Blue Fairy, his body became a battlefield. He called the Dark One dagger, stabbed it into the floor with his fist clenched around the hilt, forcing his will onto the darkness.

"The Dark One commands you!" The words imposed order on the wild magic, reined in that which had been freed. He reversed the dagger then, sending his power outwards to burn out the infestation. The Dark Castle was engulfed in malignant violet flames.

Finally, the fire burned out, and he was left kneeling in a circle of ashes. The library had been utterly annihilated. Rumplestiltskin stared blankly at the soot-stained walls, thinking it was an omen. Then he remembered.

The Dark Curse!

He transported himself into his workroom where he had left it for analysis. The room had been reduced to smoking rubble, but even amidst the chaos, he could tell that the scroll was missing.

He shouted in rage, smashing a fist of magic into the debris and sending it flying. They dared. They dared steal from him. Did they think he was dead, killed by the unleashed horrors from his own vault? He was the _Dark One_. No one stole from him.

Later, when he had recovered a semblance of calm, he investigated the invasion in more detail. It should have been impossible, yet it had happened, and he recognized the magical signature of the attack: Gothel. Gothel shouldn't have been powerful enough to break into his castle, much less his vault, or turn that magic against him.

But she was. And she had. Rumplestiltskin suspected she had drawn that power from her other self. The _real_ one.

"How accommodating of her," he muttered. He had not found the other Rumplestiltskin so cooperative, as he loathed himself and didn't trust a word out of his own mouth. It didn't matter. He had absorbed most of the magical energy released from the vault, adding that to what he had collected from Reul Ghorm. It would give him the edge now.

It wasn't difficult to trace the path of Gothel's incursion back to her garden, letting him pass through her wards. The fight was brief but brutal. Rumplestiltskin hammered the witch into submission, the darkness wrenching her out of her human shape into a dry, stunted oak tree. The change was temporary this time, a matter of days or weeks, but— "Cross me again, dearie, and it will be forever."

The darkness urged him to kill her, but Rumplestiltskin resisted. Gothel was siphoning energy from the other realm, which had the side-effect of stabilizing this one. He had collected as much of it as he could shake loose, then left her to gather more.

As he moved to leave, he noticed an echo of magic at the periphery of his senses. He traced the echo to a pair of stone statues on the road near Gothel's garden. "Well, well, someone has the most peculiar taste in artwork. Or this is a spell..."

It was a very strange spell, he decided after taking a closer look at the two transmuted women. Definitely _not_ Gothel's work. In fact, it was far more like—

"The tower. The tower she was imprisoned in."

Rumplestiltskin had never had reason to visit, but Nimue, the first Dark One, had once allied herself with Gothel. The tale was fresh in his mind, having been mentioned in Merlin's spellbook. Merlin had aided in the construction of the tower, drawing on the power of stone to contain Gothel — a renegade tree nymph. Contained but not powerless, Gothel had given Nimue the curse that had in turn trapped Merlin in a tree.

Merlin didn't exist in this reality. Camelot was a memory without substance, just like Wonderland or Neverland. Only the spell remained, an effect without a cause. A spell that had somehow escaped its original parameters.

Rumplestiltskin understood how Gothel had escaped — the substitution of close blood kin had been used since ancient times as a way to retarget a spell or to shift the cost of magic away from the caster. It wasn't a technique he condoned (yet Bae paid the price despite his father's best intentions). But Gothel's daughter (who else could this be? He saw Hook's features reflected in an innocent face) had done something different.

Something new.

Something new was always worth learning about. He probed the spell with his magic, testing its construction. He found a crystalline matrix that locked its target in place, elastic enough to absorb any attack, but always snapping into shape. It was the shape that had been altered, altered and uprooted. After all, this was no longer a tower but a girl trapped in stone.

Carrying his own supply of time and space, Rumplestiltskin wormed his way into the spell. Now, what was the name of Hook's daughter? The pirate's mind had been filled with it, coloring all his words with that name so loudly that the Dark One could hear it even in the silence. _Alice_.

"Alice." Rumplestiltskin stepped into a glittering expanse of a crystalline storm suspended between one moment and the next. He picked his way through the net of magic, subtly bending the lines to let him through. He followed the reflected light back to its source — the soul of the prisoner. "Alice? Come out, come out, wherever you are... Alice."

"Oh, hello!" A flash of white, and there she was, right in front of him. Her cheerful face twisted in puzzlement. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name's a bit of a mouthful, but you can call me the Crocodile. That's your father's little nickname for me." He grinned at her, showing off his blackened teeth.

Alice stepped back in alarm. "The Crocodile?"

"Well, it does sound nicer than 'the Dark One', don't you think?" He looked away for a moment, tracing a shimmering line of magic without quite touching it.

"He said you were an evil demon."

"That's a matter of opinion. But he did once ask me for help in freeing you, and neither of us upheld our end of the deal, that time."

Alice narrowed her eyes at him. "Things didn't work out."

"Yet you freed yourself in the end."

"Yeah, yeah, I did." She smiled at the thought.

"So why are you trapped again? Or do you just enjoy baffling passers-by with your statue impression?"

"Not much to enjoy when I can't even see them," said Alice. "But hey, maybe I'll get lucky and someone will throw wishing powder on us."

"How oddly specific. Do you speak from personal experience?"

"I spent ten years as a statue before Drizella rescued me." Alice shrugged, as if it was no more than she expected of her life.

Rumplestiltskin sighed. "You may not have another ten years." He closed his eyes, grasping at his visions of the other world, curious what had become of her there. And found nothing. The realization hit him with a jolt — Hook had no daughter in the 'real' world.

 _Something new._

"What are you talking about?" Alice's worried question broke through his abstraction.

He opened his eyes again and jabbed a black-nailed finger at her chest. "I'm talking about your escape. You did it once, you can do it again."

She pushed his hand away. "It took me seventeen years the first time. You just said I don't have that long before... before what? I turn into a pumpkin? Not that I have anything against pumpkins — excellent gourds, pumpkins. I just don't fancy _being_ one..."

"No, maybe an acorn, all things considered, but not a pumpkin." And now she had him distracted. No wonder she hadn't found her way out yet. _Focus._ "In any case, since my deal with your father fell through, perhaps you'd be interested..."

Her eyes brightened. "You can get me out of here?"

"I can help you. Teach you how. For a price."

Her smile dimmed. "Can't you just do it out of the goodness of your heart?"

"Nah, nah, nah," he scoffed. "Those who do magic out of the goodness of their hearts end up with empty hearts. Just look at Reul Ghorm. Magic always comes with a price, dearie."

"But I don't have anything to pay you with."

"You're not thinking hard enough." He clapped his hands in glee. "Simple, really. You let me look at your memories so I can learn how you did it in the first place, and then I can teach you. And then you can help me out of _my_ tower."

"Your tower?"

"Much as I hate to admit it, I find myself imprisoned in a tower. Not as literal as yours, perhaps, but walls of darkness and my own limitations are just as confining."

"You think I can help you with that?"

"I know you can." For once the fates favored him, he thought. He had found possibly the one person in this world who could throw the plate at the floor and simultaneously break and preserve it. "Once I teach you, then you can teach me."

"All right, then. I'll make a deal with you, Crocodile."

* * *

"A marriage proposal? Are they insane?" Henry tossed the parchment onto the pile on his desk, looking disgusted. "How old do they think I am?"

"You're the king now, whatever your age. People are worried about the succession," said Hansel. With the official coronation finally out of the way, they had a huge stack of diplomatic correspondence to deal with. "Who's your heir?"

"I wish I could say 'you'," said Henry, provoking Hansel to stick his tongue out at the king in a lapse of protocol. "But the throne goes to my cousin Amando."

"A foreign prince. Whose father is already ambitious. The proposal is from one of their neighboring kingdoms." Hansel pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and wrote the standard opening salutations for an official reply.

Henry groaned. "I hate politics. And I don't want to get married. At least not for another decade!"

"No," agreed Hansel, who was not looking forward to the inevitable wedding, no matter how many years hence. He fiddled with the pen, not meeting Henry's eyes. "What should I tell them?"

"Well, can't you fob them off with something polite?"

"Will do. Meanwhile, maybe you can make people feel better if you start showing up at a few balls, and at least look like you're looking." Hansel nodded at the stack of yet unopened correspondence. "I bet there's a few invitations in there. Besides, you'll need to establish connections, I mean, in general, not just a wife and all that. It's a new game now, and you have to prove yourself a strong player."

Henry dropped his face into his hands. He said in a muffled voice, "Fine, fine. I'll go dance with all the princesses and dowager queens and my grandmother's maiden aunt or whoever else..."

"It's your duty," Hansel reminded him.

"And what about my duty to my mother? To my grandparents?"

"They wouldn't want you to neglect their kingdom. But they were taken by magic. Without magic..."

Henry sighed. He lifted his head and said softly, "We made a deal. Do you think we can trust him?"

Hansel shrugged. What a question! Of course they couldn't. They just had no power to force the Dark One to do anything he wasn't willing to do. But he didn't say any of that to Henry. "Well, there's the captain, too."

After Hansel had returned from Opona and reported mixed success on his mission, Henry had offered Captain Manzana a full-time job as the royal security consultant. It seemed that the Blue Fairy, who had been the family's main magical resource for generations, had vanished. Her followers had given no satisfactory explanation to Henry's messengers, so Henry had hired the captain to fill the magical vacuum. With a glamour to hide her true face, she fit in smoothly after some initial hazing from the regular guards, and no one questioned Henry's decision too loudly.

"She's proven trustworthy so far," Henry agreed. "So, balls, huh? Brush up on your dancing, Hansel. Maybe you'll be the one to meet someone. Stars in your eyes! True love!"

"I think not. Never happening." Hansel flushed, thinking he wasn't going to love someone else _more_ , was he? But it was no use saying so. If they guessed... he couldn't bear to have Henry look at him in disgust. Hansel dropped his gaze to the paper in front of him. "Now shut up and let me finish this letter."

* * *

Dances and royal politics were the last thing on Captain Manzana's mind at the moment. For a long time, Regina had suspected that Facilier's mysterious affliction was getting worse, and now she was certain. She had woken a bit after moonset to find Facilier sitting up, his face dimly lit by the red glow coming from his cupped hands.

The Firefly Ruby.

Regina scooted up next to him, wrapping an arm gently around his shoulder. She could see the agitated sparks in the heart of the gem.

"Do you see it?" Facilier whispered. "Not only has he shut me out, he's taking the last dregs of divinity from my soul."

"You'll be... mortal? Is that so bad?" Regina rested her cheek against him. "I'm mortal."

"Mortality isn't the problem. _He_ may think me a fool, but I think... I could live a mortal life with you." Facilier closed his fingers around the ruby, then turned to kiss her. Then, "I may not even have that. I... I'm fading away."

"You feel solid enough to me." She caressed his arm, feeling its warmth under her touch.

"For now." Facilier fell silent for a moment, then said softly, "Regina, I don't want you to forget me."

"I wouldn't!"

"You may not have a choice. My reality is in question. Whether any of us exist or ever existed... in the end, the answer may not be the one we prefer, because..." He sighed and trailed off.

"Because our reality isn't real, and this world may pop out of existence at any moment, and us along with it," finished Regina bitterly. "Rumple said he could use the Dark Curse to save us."

"The Dark One?" Facilier scoffed. "As well wish on a star."

"No, I think he means it. This boy, Henry. I think he's Rumple's new curse caster."

"That's why you took this job?"

"I wanted to keep an eye on him. But so far the Dark One's kept his distance."

"That may not mean much," Facilier warned.

"I know. He's a manipulative little imp. He could be orchestrating events without needing direct contact with Henry himself."

"A cruel fate to put upon a child." He said it in a neutral tone, but his eyes met Regina's, questioning.

She sighed. "But if it saves us all... I don't like it, but it may be necessary. If we should meet again in the new world, then..."

"You want to help him?"

"I saved him once. Now it feels like I'm betraying him, even if he's doomed otherwise. I wish there was some other way."

"Another curse caster? No matter who is chosen, the cost will be high. That is the nature of the magic."

"I know that."

"Then let the cards fall as they may."

* * *

"Whoa. That was strange." Drizella stumbled out of the spell, terrified but too well-trained by her mother to show her fear. She clung too long to the back of her savior before hastily stepping back. She brushed off her hands and hoped no one had noticed. Gretel's little brother and his two sorcerous goons had vanished. "What... what happened?"

Alice turned to face her, head canted slightly and eyes unfocused. "Yeah. So the good news is, we were statues for less than ten years. In the not good news department, those people will probably try to kill you again if they see you."

Glancing at the sky, Drizella realized that at least a few hours had gone by in the blink of an eye. But— "Statues?" Then she remembered their first meeting. "Is this a habit of yours, then?"

"More of an emergency measure." Alice looked down at herself, and Drizella followed her gaze to the bloodstained rip in her clothes.

Drizella swallowed. "The spear. I remember."

Alice slid a hand under the cloth and felt around gingerly. "I think he healed me. Or did I do that? It was hard to tell."

"'He'? He who?"

"My father's Crocodile, of course." Alice grinned cheekily at her.

"His _what?_ "

"Or, as some know him, Rumplestiltskin the Dark One."

"Don't say—" Drizella looked around quickly before she could stop herself. If Alice could be believed, the Dark One had already been here. She shuddered. "I thought he was dead, or just a myth. So he's real?"

"Yes and no." Another of Alice's unhelpful answers.

Drizella sighed. "I suppose I should thank you for saving my life."

Alice said nothing, just giving her an expectant look.

"All right! Thank you, Alice, for saving my life." She rolled her eyes. "Happy now?"

"Deliriously," Alice replied cheerfully. Then her face fell. "The boy said you had killed his sister."

Drizella nodded tightly. "It's true. I suppose now you regret saving me."

"You make a lot of suppositions."

Drizella looked away. "Am I wrong?"

"Why did you kill her?"

"I didn't want to." Maybe if she said it enough times, it would make the guilt go away. "Gothel forced us into a duel. More or less."

"She has a way of doing that." Alice fell silent for a moment, and Drizella didn't dare ask what she was thinking. Then, "But you... you're still set on going back to her?"

"I told you, I have no choice." Drizella envied Alice her apparent ability to turn on a whim, but Drizella knew she would fall to pieces if she strayed from the path she had set herself. "She died for a place in Gothel's coven. I can't throw away that sacrifice."

"So you'll throw away your own future as well?" Alice grabbed Drizella's forearms and stared at her. "Ughhh. Were you a mule in a former life?"

Drizella shook her off in exasperation. "This is the only way to protect my sisters."

Alice released her and threw up her hands in surrender. She spun around, eyes turned up towards the heavens. "Fine. Fine. Then I'm coming with you. You need someone to look out for you."

"I don't..." Drizella protested feebly, but Alice cut her off with a glare.

"You do."

Drizella couldn't meet her eyes. She said in a soft voice, "You... you don't owe me anything."

Alice caught her hands between her own. They were warm, fizzy with residual magic. "That doesn't matter. Friends look out for each other." She hesitated, then said uncertainly, "We're friends, aren't we?"

Drizella suddenly wanted to cry. After all of Gothel's talk of sisterhood had turned to treachery and death, and her own mother only valued her for her use as a pawn, friendship seemed further away than a dream. She cleared her throat and stood up straighter. "If you insist."

"Brilliant!"

Drizella started walking back down the road. "Please be careful. Gothel... I've seen what happens to half the women she 'recruits' for her coven. Don't... don't believe her or let her provoke you. She... harvests murder. Violence. I don't know what kind of magic the Dark One uses, but Gothel dabbles in the darkest."

"It's all right. You don't need to worry for me. I don't... I don't think she'll kill me."

"Why not?"

"Because she's my mother. Abandoned me at birth, but..." Alice shrugged.

"You were serious about that?" Drizella stopped to stare at Alice again, looking for a resemblance.

Alice shifted sheepishly from one foot to the other under Drizella's scrutiny. "Yeah. Still a monster, though."

And she was right on both counts. Gothel met them at the gate with a smile of welcome. "You found your way back, after all? Well done."

But Drizella saw the insincerity of her smile (nothing like Alice's quirky honesty) and things went sour when Alice admitted that she had had help.

"The Dark One?" screeched Gothel. "You let him touch you?" She seized Alice by the arm.

"Hey!" Alice pushed uselessly at her mother. "He taught me..."

Gothel hissed. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at her daughter. "Tainted. He's tainted your soul with darkness." Then she released Alice, shoving her into Drizella with a surge of magical force. "You're no better than she is, now."

Drizella caught Alice before they both fell over. "Oof. No better than me, huh?"

Alice recovered her balance, but didn't let go of Drizella. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You'd be the first," muttered Drizella, watching Gothel stalk off without another word. She took a deep breath. "Well. That could have gone better."

"Or worse. Say, any chance of a bite to eat? I think we've missed tea time."

"Yeah. Here, I'll show you the kitchen." Drizella smiled weakly at Alice. She supposed it would be pleasant to have an ally — one who probably wasn't planning to stab her in the back and use her corpse as a step stool. What had Alice said?

 _We're friends._


	12. Shuffling the Deck: Let's Go to the Ball

"I was planning to kill her," Drizella confessed. This was no conversation to be held over tea and buttered toast, as her mother would have told her. Still, she risked a confidence in hopes of gaining more in return. Or so she told herself, knowing it was a lie. In truth, she was tired of playing this game and yearned for honesty.

Alice took it in stride, adding sugar to her tea and marmalade to her toast. Definite sweet tooth, that girl. "Were you? Kill who?"

"Your mother, of course."

Alice looked up from her toast, eyes wide and guileless. "Oh."

"But she's your _mother_. I mean, my mother is a dreadful woman, but if you were to kill her..." Drizella sighed.

Alice wagged a piece of toast at her in admonishment. "Friends don't kill each other's mothers, is that what you're saying?"

"But we can't let them go on, either. Your mother... she saves people, only to ruin them." And was Alice like that, too? Drizella hoped not. "She's looking for something, and she doesn't care how many of us she breaks in her search. But what is it she's looking for? Why? You're her daughter — do you know?"

"She abandoned me at birth," Alice reminded her. "She didn't confide her secrets to a newborn."

"But would she tell you now? If you asked. If you pretended to be her loyal daughter..."

Alice gave her a pitying look. "That's what you did, isn't it? How's that working out for you?"

Drizella's breath caught. Alice wasn't quite as naive as she seemed. Perhaps she saw the game but simply chose not to play. Was that even possible? After a moment, Drizella said steadily, "At least I know what my mother wants. But yours...?"

"Does it matter? As long as we stay here, she can use us." Alice stuffed half a piece of toast into her mouth. She said as she chewed, "Told you not to stay. Dangerous. Twist your heart and call it origami."

Drizella blinked. "What?"

Alice waved a hand dismissively. "She manipulates people. She manipulated my papa. She _was_ locked up all safe and sound, but my papa went to her, and that's how she could use him."

"She used him?"

Alice gestured at herself. "Clearly."

"No, actually... it's not clear. I need more details." Perhaps it would shed light on Gothel's current plans. Drizella persuaded Alice to tell her the full story.

"Mind you, it took me years to put it all together, but I figured it out in the end." Alice launched into the story over a second piece of toast.

"Gods. That's horrible." It gave Drizella a new appreciation for her own mother.

"I think..." Alice stared into the distance. "I think she wasn't always like this. We're all creatures of time, and she's very old. Perhaps she began as someone quite different."

"Or she was born that way."

"No. She said I was 'tainted'. You saw how angry she was. Why, when she's as dark as anything herself? Unless she wasn't, once, and resents her own corruption."

"Hmm. Maybe. Does it matter?"

Alice stared at her levelly over her cup. "If you won't leave, then you'd best have something to hope for."

"Hope? Hope for what?"

"Change."

* * *

 _Spin, spin, spin._

Alice had shown him the way through the paradox of dark and light, and now Rumplestiltskin knew exactly what he had to do to spin the Dark Curse into the instrument of their salvation.

Leaving the wreckage of his castle behind, Rumplestiltskin retreated to the hovel he and his son had once called home. Without Bae, it could never be that again, but it would serve from now until the end of the world. The battered cottage had the advantage of being well-hidden, forgotten by almost everyone. The surrounding village had been destroyed during a vicious civil war a hundred years ago, the ruins swallowed by the forest.

He had his spinning wheel, he had the scroll that held the Dark Curse, and he had himself. The roof needed re-thatching and the interior was filthy, but a few spells soon took care of that.

"Spin the darkness, spin the curse," he chanted to himself as he fed his own curse into the thread of magic he was creating. "Steal the power, splice the souls..."

He had all the power he needed in this world, but none of it was _real_. To shift the balance of existence to favor the wish-made souls, he needed the Dark One's power from all the worlds. His other self was not disposed to surrender that power, but the Rumplestiltskin spinning the Dark Curse (mark two) was confident in his ability to wear himself down in the end. Meanwhile, he made do with dribs and drabs scraped free whenever the other Rumplestiltskin used his magic.

Round and round went the wheel. Bit by bit the strands of the curse spread over the land, catching every soul in its weave.

 _Spin the darkness, spin the curse..._

* * *

The business of running a kingdom involved far more arithmetic than Hansel enjoyed. He flipped through a sheaf of papers, skimming through the numbers. He lost track on the second page, shrugged, and handed the bundle to Henry. "Here. Your turn to check the math."

Henry sighed and accepted the papers. "Minister of trade? What does he want?"

"Apparently summer is the traditional time for road work. This is his detailed — very detailed — maintenance budget and report on the king's highways," said Hansel with an evil grin.

"Gods." Henry pushed the papers aside. "It's almost suppertime. I'll do it tomorrow. What else is there?"

Hansel picked up the next item on the pile. The wax seal had already been broken, but Hansel recognized the ink imprint on the paper. "Another invitation to a royal ball. Kingdom of Opona."

Henry shot him a worried look. "Opona? Do you think..."

Hansel shook his head. "We were never officially there." He found a second paper clipped to the invitation. "You can read the report from your spymaster."

"Right, let's see what Granny has to say."

Hansel didn't know if the old werewolf was immortal or just too stubborn to die, but she knew everything about everyone, through multiple generations.

"It's officially a birthday celebration for the older prince, Martin, who is seeking a wife — good luck to him, I say, and keep those harpies well away from me — but Granny says to be careful." Henry looked at Hansel. "This Martin doesn't get along with his father. She's heard rumors of a rebellion brewing. She thinks they'll both approach me privately and try to secure my unofficial support."

Hansel frowned. "We shouldn't let the Enchanted Forest get dragged into a civil war, Henry."

"I know. Still, we should go and see which way the wind's blowing." Henry chuckled, "And enjoy the party, I guess."

Hansel forced a smile. "As long as Prince Martin doesn't think you're trying to steal women from him." He thumped himself mentally. _He_ was the one who was irrationally jealous. He had no right to feel this way; he should be hoping for a good match for his friend... but he still hated it, seeing Henry dancing and flirting with the highborn girls. Hansel just counted himself lucky that Henry wasn't the type of noble prone to indiscretions with the household staff.

"Or you! The dashing and heroic Hansel, skilled with sword and pen..."

Hansel grimaced, rubbing at his forearms. "The hideously scarred Hansel, you mean."

"Nonsense. Girls think it's romantic if you have a few scars. Tell them you got them in duels!"

"Would you be impressed?" Hansel asked dryly.

"Hey, even General Lancelot (gods rest his soul) was known for defending his honor by the blade, back in the day. Half the female population of the realm used to swoon at his name..."

"Swooning is irrelevant. You'll have to marry for politics, I'm afraid." At least then Hansel could still comfort himself on being the one closest to Henry's heart.

"Let me keep my delusions for a little longer, Hansel."

 _Yes, by all means, let us keep our delusions._

* * *

"Engaged? To... to a prince?" Alice boggled, the words coming out of her mouth not making any sense in her head. Drizella had gone home for three weeks to see her mother. Where did princes or engagements enter into it?

"Prince Gregor. The younger one. Mother was hoping to snag the elder, but it seems Martin's a tricky bastard." Drizella's tone darkened as she spoke Martin's name, and Alice suspected some unpleasant history there. Drizella shook her head. "I don't want to talk about him. What's dear Gothel been up to?"

Alice glanced around reflexively. She and Drizella were meeting at the broken fountain that marked one of the run-down public squares of Opona's capital, far from Gothel's garden, but one never knew when the witch might pop up unexpectedly. "When she's not tending her garden, she's out hunting for the Dark One. She sent me here to keep an eye out."

"The Dark One? I thought she hated him."

"He has something she wants. Something that must not stay in such unworthy hands, and you know whose hands are the only worthy ones..."

Drizella scoffed. "What is this mysterious something, then?"

Alice shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. But... a prince, seriously?"

Drizella sat down on the stone rim of the broken fountain. "My mother has ambitions."

"She's already got a 'Lady' in front of her name," said Alice, sitting down next to Drizella. "How is you marrying a prince going to add to that?"

"Grandchildren," Drizella said glumly. " _Royal_ grandchildren. She's given me up as hopeless, and now she thinks a batch of malleable tots is just the ticket to a fresh start."

Alice stretched out an arm, pulling Drizella in for a hug. "You're far from hopeless. You were trapped, just like I was. There's so many towers in the world."

Drizella sighed, dropping her head wearily onto Alice's shoulder. "You escaped. I wish I could do the same."

"You can!" Alice wanted to shake her, make her _see_. But she was still seeing... "A prince? Really?"

Drizella straightened, emitting a soft huff of amusement. "I didn't want a prince. Not the first prince, and not the second. To be honest, I don't want to marry any of them." She sighed, then added wistfully, "I wish I could marry _you_. Mother would have a fit."

Alice felt her stomach drop. She risked a glance at Drizella, and mumbled, "Is that the only reason?"

"What?" Drizella flushed slightly, not meeting her eyes.

"The only reason you'd marry me?" Suddenly Alice had to know. It was the most important question in the world. She slid a hand under Drizella's jaw, turning her face until she could look her in the eyes.

Drizella seemed to have stopped breathing. Then, "I...well... I mean... I thought... you're... you're so... you. And you're not afraid of that. And... and I _like_ you."

Alice's heart filled with warmth as she saw the reflection of her own feelings in her friend's eyes. "I like you, too." And neither of them seemed able to tear their gaze away.

After that, it was the most natural thing to fall together, their lips meeting in a kiss. Princes and engagements meant nothing. Between one heartbeat and the next, the weight of the world's expectations dropped away. In that moment, everything seemed possible.

But every moment soon changes into another, and so it was now.

"I have to go." Drizella seemed to plead for Alice to understand.

Alice said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Drizella nodded slightly, just as if Alice had answered her aloud. And then she was gone.

* * *

Hansel's trip to Opona as part of an official state visit was a much slower, elaborate affair than the previous two fly-by-night expeditions. King Henry couldn't travel to a foreign kingdom without a retinue of household guards and servants, courtiers, knights, and other followers. Captain Manzana rode discreetly among the guards, maintaining magical protections which were invisible to the common eye. Hansel and Henry both found it stifling. On the approach to the capital of Opona, they contrived to ride ahead with a mere two guards in attendance — not very far ahead, just enough to get some breathing room.

"In the old stories, you always meet beggars who are secretly sorceresses or fantastical creatures who give you quests," Henry said to Hansel. "If my life were a story, this is where I'd be kind to a magical helper, who would then help me find my mother and avenge my grandparents."

Hansel scoffed. "We should be so lucky."

Lucky or not, what they did find was a girl in a pale blue ball gown walking a horse. The horse had gone lame, which explained why she was walking it, but not how she had ever managed to ride a horse in that dress.

"My fairy godmother enchanted it," Ella (as she introduced herself) told Henry when he asked. "It was easier to enchant my clothes than to conjure up an entire carriage complete with a team of horses and a driver." Ella smiled and twirled, dancing lightly in a pair of improbable glass slippers.

Hansel eyed the horse. "Not enough magic left to enchant the horse, huh?"

"I'm afraid not. As it is, the enchantment will only last until midnight." Ella smiled ruefully. "I suppose I should enjoy it while I can."

"No problem. You can borrow one of our remounts," Henry offered. "We're all going to the same ball, right? I couldn't leave a fair maiden behind to swallow our dust."

"Thank you, your majesty." Ella dropped into a curtsy. "That is most kind of you."

Hansel rolled his eyes as he watched Henry and Ella smile at each other. Did Henry really think he was the hero in some fairy tale? As they continued on their way, Henry and Ella rode side by side, chatting away while Hansel lagged further behind.

* * *

What the hell was her little sister thinking? Drizella returned to her mother's house that afternoon to find the place in an uproar. Somehow, Ella had acquired a fairy godmother — a second-tier do-gooder, but magical enough to conjure Ella a fancy outfit and send her on the way to the royal ball. The fairy had stayed behind to distract Lady Tremaine.

Her mistake.

Now the fairy, manacled and shorn of her wings, had been dragged into the parlor to serve as an object lesson on the limitations of magic.

"Magic isn't power because magic can be taken," said Lady Tremaine. "But fear — fear lasts forever." She brandished the fairy's wand in illustration.

"Of course, Mother," said Drizella, bracing herself for whatever hideous "lesson" came next. Even half-expecting it, Drizella still flinched, swallowing a gasp of horror when her mother used the wand to reduce the fairy to a pile of dust. The manacles clinked to the floor with sickening finality.

Her mother turned away, point made, leaving Drizella to recover from her shock. There was still a ball to attend, after all. The prince would be expecting her.

But it wasn't Prince Gregor who intercepted her before she even reached the ball room, it was Gretel's little brother. Drizella found herself yanked half off her feet, a dagger at her throat. Hansel dragged her into an empty antechamber before anyone even had a chance to notice.

"It _is_ you," Hansel growled in her ear. "How are you even here? You were supposed to be dead, or as good as..."

"Sorry to disappoint," said Drizella. By now, she had probed her abductor for magic and found none. With a flick of her fingers, she summoned her power and threw him off her, his dagger flying across the room to embed itself in the wall. Another spell pinned Hansel to the ground. She brushed herself off, making sure her hair was still in place. "Now, where were we...?"

"Fucking witch!" spat Hansel. "If you're going to kill me, do it."

"You know, I didn't want to kill your sister. But Gothel made sure only one of us was walking away alive that day, and I didn't want to die, either."

"Coward."

"Think what you like. It's Gothel who needs to be taken down. She's too powerful now, but things change." Drizella prodded Hansel with a toe. "Your mind, for instance. What's the use of killing me, when Gothel is out there making girls fight like animals?"

"It was still your knife in my sister's heart!"

"True. I do owe her. And that debt is yours to collect now. But a favor — not my life."

"A favor," sneered Hansel. "Not bloody likely."

"Think about it," she urged him. "The day may come when you need the help of a magic user."

"And that's Captain Manzana, not you."

Drizella recognized the name. She had done her research after Hansel's first attempt on her life. "She works for King Henry, not for you."

Hansel stared at her, mistrust and anger written all over his face. But he nodded at last. "Fine. You owe me a favor."

"Smart boy." Drizella released the spell on him. As he lurched back to his feet, she stood aside, allowing him to leave first.

He collected his knife, then shuffled past her. With no warning, he stabbed her under her ribs.

She didn't need warning. Magic seized him, twisting his wrist painfully until he dropped the knife. "I'm giving you a chance. Take it." Then she teleported herself away. She didn't have time for this. Hansel wasn't the only rash would-be assassin here tonight. Fairy godmother or no, Drizella didn't believe Ella was here in search of a husband.

* * *

 _Spin the darkness, spin the curse._

But every curse needed a caster willing to pay the price, and for the Dark Curse, that price was—

"The heart of the person I love the most." Rumplestiltskin let the wheel slow to a stop, the thread of the curse falling from his fingers.

 _There is no such person_ , sneered the voice of the darkness. _Your heart is empty and cold._

Thirty years in the cell had worn away at his soul until he had nothing left. His son was dead. Belle was dead. Whatever urge he had to protect his grandson was an artifact of memory. He honored Bae, but it was only out of a sense of debts and obligations. Not love.

"It doesn't have to be me," he whispered to himself. After all, he had once groomed Regina to cast the curse, until he had no more need for it.

 _Can't you just do it out of the goodness of your heart?_

He saw the girl's face in his mind, full of hope and love. Love for her father — the pirate. She could cast the curse, if he persuaded her that it would be for the greater good. He let out an impish giggle. So, he had lost a son. Now the daughter would lose a father...

It reeked of the brutal symmetry that delighted the darkness.

Rumplestiltskin took up the thread of the curse again. Watch the wheel, clear the mind. Spin the thread, spin the fates. He whispered his plans to the curse, thinking thinking thinking...

* * *

On the morning of the royal ball, Alice had followed the eastern highway to the outskirts of town until fields and pastures gave way to woodland. She took up temporary residence under a tree, distracting herself by watching the parade of farmers and merchants flowing into the capital, mixed in with the carriages of the rich and noble.

How many of them were kings or princes or lords? How many of them were looking for a prince? Strangers, all of them, except one, and she already had a prince. But that meant the prince also had her... all day, all night, and as many dances as he wanted, and wouldn't it be awkward if Alice crashed that party?

So she didn't, for Drizella's sake, and stayed away from the palace today. _And tonight, and tomorrow, and forever?_ Alice had been in palaces before. Nasty places full of unreasonable people. If the penalty for stealing a potion was death, what would the king do to her if she stole a princess?

"Why would anyone even want to be a princess?" Alice shook her head. Surely Drizella would come to her senses and call off the betrothal.

"Cakes and pretty dresses?" An impish giggle came from behind her. The Dark One materialized in a cloud of black smoke. "A coronet and the cheers of an adoring populace? It takes all kinds, dearie!"

Alice stared in astonishment. "The strangers here for the Ball just keep getting stranger and stranger."

The imp grinned at her, swaying slightly on his feet. "Is that so?"

"Are you here for the Ball? The prince is looking for a bride. If the shoe fits..." Alice cocked her head and eyed him. "Are you looking for a prince?"

"No, dearie, I'm here for my grandson." The Dark One staggered to lean against a tree, not quite able to conceal his unsteadiness. He looked away for a moment, a shadow of pain crossing his face.

"Are you all right?" Alice took a step closer. "Have you had a run-in with Gothel?"

"Not lately, no. Why?"

"She's looking for you. I'd be worried."

The Dark One laughed raggedly. "What, concerned about the Dark One? Strange girl."

"I'd be concerned for anybody, if Gothel was after them."

"No, no, I'm fine." He shook his head, hunched over and failing to make it look casual. "It's just my mortality catching up with me. Soon it won't matter."

"Mortality won't be the only thing catching up with you if you die here!" Alice moved to lend an arm and a shoulder of support. "You need to lie down somewhere. There's an inn..."

"No. No inns." Before she could protest, the Dark One waved a hand and caught her up in his magic, whisking them away in another cloud of smoke.

"Hey!" Then her feet thudded to the floor, the light suddenly dimmer. They were in a peasant's one-room cottage, the air smelling of dirt and straw, but thankfully, not much of manure. A spinning wheel sat prominently in the best-lit patch of floor, and a crude bed was shoved in the corner.

The Dark One half-sat, half-collapsed on the bed, his breath going out in a heavy _whuff_. He ran his hands over his face and sighed. "Well, that took more out of me than I expected."

Alice rummaged about in his cabinets. "Poor Crocodile, no bone for you — the cupboard is bare."

"I'm out of the habit of eating," said the Dark One. He reached out with one hand, groping blindly at thin air. His eyes closed, and Alice felt the air tremble with magic. A loaf of bread appeared. He split it in two and offered half to Alice. "Or having guests..."

Alice accepted the bread with a shrug, chewing absently on the broken end. "Why did you bring me here?"

"The world is ending."

Alice looked at him in surprise. Had the visions leaked out of her head? "You've seen it, too?"

The Dark One stared back, nonplussed. "You already know."

"'Know' is a little strong. 'Hoped it wasn't true' is more accurate." So much for hope, thought Alice. Ever since the Gryphon had whispered its secrets into the queen's ear, Alice had been haunted by the awareness of her own non-existence. Now real, now unreal, all the world was only a distorted echo of a truer realm — and all echoes faded to nothing. To have it confirmed by the Dark One was an unpleasant shock. Feeling weak-kneed, she flopped wrong-way round onto a chair, draping her arms over the back. "Is there anything you can do about it?"

"Yes, but..." The Dark One pointed his half of the bread at her. "It turns out I can't do it alone."

"Ah." Alice smiled. Hope came back to her and laughed, just like Mother Hubbard's dog. "You want my help."

* * *

 **Author's note:** So I guess I have a bit of a Hansel/Henry/Ella love triangle going on here. Not sure yet how it pans out ultimately. I won't know until I've finished writing everything!


	13. Cutting the Deck

By the time Hansel found his way to the ballroom, it was in an uproar.

"Guards! Stop that girl, she killed the prince!" shouted a woman from the far side of the room.

Hansel searched frantically for Henry. To his horror, his king was in the middle of a melee with said guards, while various noblemen and women scrambled out of the way... all except the one with a sword in her hand, wielding it with expertise enough to force her way towards the main doors, despite being outnumbered. It was the woman they had met on the road, the one with the lame horse. Ella.

"Henry, you chivalrous idiot, what have you done?" Hansel muttered under his breath even as he reached for his own weapon, scanning the crowd for the best line of attack to clear Henry's way. Where were Henry's guards? Hansel spotted Captain Manzana at the edge of the room, sheltered by a pillar, her eyes on Henry. By the subtle gestures of her hands, and the improbability of Henry's continued luck, magic was in play.

She wasn't the only one. Hansel's eyes narrowed as he spotted Drizella on the opposite side across from the captain. For some reason, the younger witch was just as intent on protecting Ella as the captain was on Henry.

"Damn it." This was a perfect chance to sneak up on Drizella while she was distracted, but... if Ella went down, he could just see Henry insisting on staying by her side or trying to lug her dead body with them. Every delay only made the situation worse. Hansel darted towards Henry, hissing at him, "Come on! We have to get out. Fast!"

Thank the gods the Oponans didn't seem to have any magic users on their staff, thought Hansel as he finally herded Henry out of the palace to regroup with the rest of their retinue. Ella was none too cooperative, and would have escaped had not Captain Manzana hit her with a paralysis spell, giving Henry the chance to question her. Hansel listened with half an ear as he stalked their perimeter, keeping watch for Drizella.

"That was my dagger you stole and stabbed the prince with. It has my crest on it," said Henry. "Are you trying to start a war?!"

"Yes," snarled Ella. Her stance was proud, defiant even as Henry's guards secured her hands behind her back with rope. She ignored the sword menacing her, her gaze never wavering from Henry.

"Are you mad?"

"I'm a simple woman, your majesty, but the Enchanted Forest has an army. The rulers of Opona are tyrants. The prince had my father killed!" Ella spoke with utter conviction.

"There are better ways to petition for our aid," Henry said darkly. "I should turn you in to King Conal."

"I'd rather die."

"Well, you may have your chance." Hansel caught Henry's attention, nodding back in the direction of the palace. "Their guard's just caught up with us."

It wasn't King Conal riding at the head of the Oponan guard, but his younger son, Prince Gregor. Henry stepped forward to greet him, Hansel following discreetly at his side. Hansel was disturbed to find Drizella lurking among the new arrivals. The witch shot Hansel a sardonic look, then went back to watching Ella, a hint of worry slipping through her mask of indifference.

Prince Gregor demanded the surrender of the assassin.

Hansel wasn't surprised that Henry refused, despite his earlier threat to Ella. What did shock him was what Henry said next.

"The woman was a thief before she was a murderer, and it was my honor she stained by using my dagger for the deed. I have a prior claim on her life, which I plan to collect tomorrow at dawn." Henry smiled coldly at Gregor. "So if you still want her, you may have what's left after we're done."

It wasn't quite as simple as that, but in the end, neither Henry nor Gregor wanted a war between their kingdoms, and Gregor returned with his followers to the palace, while Henry had the Enchanted Forest delegation ride out to camp at the outskirts of the capital. Hansel hadn't wanted a war, either. But this wasn't like his friend, to order a summary execution without a proper trial.

He cornered Henry that evening. "You... are you really going to have her killed?"

Henry looked around carefully before answering, keeping his voice low, "No, of course not. But I couldn't just hand her over, either. You weren't there to see, but there was something fishy going on. I don't think Ella actually killed the prince — I don't think she was faking her surprise when he fell. I just said all that to get the Oponans off our back."

"And give Ella a bit of a scare?" Hansel said.

Henry frowned at Hansel. "As she gave one to me, when I realized my dagger had been used to stab the crown prince of Opona?"

"At least you haven't taken leave of your senses," said Hansel. "You were looking downright smitten earlier, the two of you making eyes at each other..."

"We were going to the ball. I was being polite! How was I to know she had other plans?"

Terrible plans, thought Hansel. He found Ella later to tell her so. "War! You really didn't think that one through. If you think your people are suffering now, how much worse will it be in a war?"

"But things will be better after it ends," Ella said.

Did she really believe that? Hansel shook his head. "Or you could end up with a worse tyrant, ruling with a harder hand because he's afraid of a rebellion. Haven't you ever read _any_ history?"

"Heroes have to fight injustice, or it will never end," insisted Ella.

"Gah!" Hansel stalked off, still shaking his head. What did Henry see in this girl?

It was the wrong question. He should have asked, what did _Drizella_ see in her? If not for Captain Manzana, they would have been short one prisoner come morning. As it was, they ended up with two.

"Perfect. She can be our witness." Henry took the captain to the side for a private consultation.

Hansel eyed Drizella. She looked devastated, pale and drained of hope. The young witch had been silenced and paralyzed by the captain's magic to keep her from using magic. Ella refused to look at Drizella, keeping a stoic face as best she could.

Then it was Hansel's turn with Henry.

"I thought you weren't going to go through with it," Hansel said.

"No, but we have to make it look real. The captain is going to mock up a magical simulacrum. It'll last long enough to be buried. Ella will get a change of name and face and exile to the Enchanted Forest," explained Henry.

"And she agreed to all this?"

"Well, not yet, but it's better than dying." Henry looked so optimistic that Hansel didn't have the heart to argue.

"You must really like this girl."

Henry blushed. "That has nothing to do with it. Look, there's one more thing that I need you to do."

Because Henry had publicly claimed it as an offense against his personal honor, custom dictated that he satisfy it personally. Only it was beneath the dignity of a king to get blood on his hands that way, hence the need for a royal champion.

"Me? I'm not even a knight!" protested Hansel.

"You're my closest friend. Anyway, you won't really be killing anyone."

Hansel could never refuse Henry anything. Even if it had been the real Ella, he would have done it — if Henry asked. The simulacrum felt real when Hansel hacked a heavy sword through her neck. As a lady, she rated a noble's death rather than simply being strung up on a tree to hang.

Prince Gregor and a dozen courtiers and guards came to bear witness and take the body home. The prince collected Drizella as well, who looked to be in shock.

After that, there was no good to be had in lingering in Opona.

* * *

Hansel wasn't sure what Henry said to convince Ella, but by the time they reached the Enchanted Forest, he had given her a sword and the two of them had bonded over their sparring matches. She renamed herself "Jacinda", a word for hyacinth in Old Oponan — her lucky flower. Hyacinth blooming season had already come and gone that year, but Captain Manzana conjured a dried blossom from somewhere and transmuted it into a skin mask for Jacinda. It bonded magically with the wearer and was harder to detect or disperse than a mere glamour.

Jacinda seemed reconciled to her exile by the time they reached the border of the Enchanted Forest, and accepted Henry's invitation to stay with them at the royal castle. The soft smile on her face when she looked at Henry disgusted Hansel to an unreasonable extent, but he grudgingly acknowledged that Henry seemed just as happy when he looked at her.

 _What about her vengeance? Her quest for justice? Did she give it all up?_ Hansel was disappointed in her, but kept his feelings to himself. _Doesn't her father matter to her anymore?_

He eventually got the story from Henry. Ella — Jacinda — had changed her mind at the last moment about killing Prince Martin. Her stepmother, Lady Tremaine, had finished the job for her, stabbing Martin from behind. He had been pushed right onto the dagger in Ella's hand and she was left holding the corpse, at which point her stepmother had called for the guards.

"But why?" asked Hansel.

"Lady Tremaine had no further use for the Prince Martin once her daughter Drizella was betrothed to his younger brother."

"Wait, what?" Hansel's heart sank as the pieces fell into place. "Drizella? She's Ella's sister?"

"Half-sister, apparently."

"Ah." Hansel had never told Henry who had killed Gretel, not wanting to get him any further involved, and had asked for Captain Manzana's discretion. And now it was too late. However much he hated the growing love between Henry and Jacinda, he was not such a wretched ingrate as to ruin it with inconvenient blood feuds. He couldn't kill Drizella without betraying Henry and Jacinda.

 _You still owe me a favor, witch._ At least now she, too, knew the pain of losing a beloved sister. _Call it my revenge._

"Anyway," said Henry, "I explained to her that a war with the Enchanted Forest wasn't the best way to change things in her country."

" _I_ told her that, but she didn't believe me," grumbled Hansel.

"Well, it was a stressful night. She wasn't ready to listen then."

"So she's just giving up?"

"We're going to try diplomatic channels. Granny may know people who know people in Opona who can make a difference," said Henry. "And Jacinda is hoping Drizella can work with the new crown prince to reform their government."

Hansel snorted.

"What?"

"Nothing. She has a lot of trust in her sister. So does Drizella know the execution was faked?"

Henry sighed. "Not yet. We're hoping when things settle down..."

Hansel shook his head. "I can't see that going well."

"What? Her sister will be happy, once she gets over being furious and hurt," said Henry. "I mean, it's not ideal, but it can't be helped."

* * *

 _A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets._

Rumplestiltskin remembered the pirate who had challenged a crippled peasant to a duel on board his ship. He had no tolerance for cowards or those he saw as weak. How did a man like Killian Jones produce a daughter as kindhearted and unconventional as Alice? Rumplestiltskin found it baffling. The pirate had embraced his role as a swaggering bully. He had been a man with a code of honor that prided itself on the dominance of the strong over the weak. Women were treated as accessories to demonstrate that strength, passed from one man to another as a prize.

Yet Alice Jones was nothing like that, believed none of that.

Rumplestiltskin wondered what battle Hook had fought against himself to become a father, a father so clearly loved by his daughter. A daughter who extended that love to others, even to Gothel's miserable young apprentice.

Drizella had found her way to Alice, or perhaps Alice had found her way to Drizella. They met in the woods outside Rumplestiltskin's cottage. He didn't exactly spy on them, but if their images were caught inside his wards, he didn't erase those images, either. Even weakened by spinning his power into the Dark Curse, he could still draw on spells already cast.

Thus he saw Drizella's grief at the death of her sister, and Alice's unstinting support for her friend — her lover, even.

Well. That was a complication. Lover or father? Rumplestiltskin didn't know which one the Dark Curse would demand as its price. The thought of forcing such a choice on Alice twisted painfully in his heart.

 _You're going soft. You know it must be done._

Gods. He was a selfish coward. Was there nothing he wouldn't stoop to? Perhaps not. Rumplestiltskin sighed and returned to the spinning wheel. He hadn't told her the cost yet. She would have to know, eventually. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow, either. Until the curse was complete, better to let her enjoy her innocence.

* * *

"The house is this way," Alice told Drizella, leading her by the hand along what seemed to be a deer path.

"I had to get away," Drizella felt compelled to explain. "Mother is actually happy Ella is dead. 'Served her purpose for once in her life'." She mimicked Lady Tremaine's tone with bitter accuracy. "She's heartless."

"It's not your fault."

"Isn't it? Maybe it's the fates having a laugh at me. I killed Hansel's sister, you know, and now he's killed mine." Drizella's eyes teared up again at the thought, and her nose followed suit despite her best efforts. She sniffled and wiped her sleeve across her face, a habit that had always disgusted Mother. "And both times, the true blame lay elsewhere — on Gothel, or on my mother."

"So, both our mothers are terrible people, and it's good to get away."

"I was fooling myself, thinking I could play the long game and get the upper hand on Gothel," Drizella admitted. "The truth is, she's likelier to sell me out long before I ever get a chance."

"Better you see it now than when it's too late," said Alice. "That means you're out of the woods and..." She gestured at the meadow opening out before them and the thatch-roofed cottage in the middle.

"That... that's where you've been staying?"

"It's the Dark One's house."

"I always heard he had a castle!" Drizella stopped short, holding Alice back. "What are you doing here?"

"I guess he moved." Alice tugged at Drizella to continue. "I'm helping him save the world. Come on, I'll introduce you. And you can see my garden and meet Mrs. Bumbledog and—"

"No, Alice, wait. What are you talking about? Save the world? The Dark One?"

"Yes, it will be a new world. New world, new lives, new start for everyone. If we do it right, your mother and my mother won't be able to hurt people anymore." Alice grinned at Drizella as if it was the most obvious, wonderful plan in the world — whatever strange world she lived in.

"The Dark One told you all that? And you believe him?"

"Why would he lie to me?" Alice asked guilelessly.

"Why would he..." Drizella took a deep breath, counted silently to three, then said, "Your mother. My mother. You know what they're like. Why do you think the Dark One is any better?"

"Because he is." Alice shrugged. "When we were trapped in stone, I made a deal with him."

"I thought it was a one-time thing."

"It was, but it lasted longer than you might think. I got to know him. Enough that I choose to trust him now." Alice tugged on Drizella's arm again. "Meet him and judge for yourself."

The Dark One was nothing like Drizella had imagined. Smaller, more human, but far creepier with a lunatic manner and a high-pitched giggle that curled her spine. When she saw him first, he sat at a spinning wheel, spinning away at nothing she could see. Not a trick of the dim lighting, either — what ran through his fingers was the essence of dark magic that he was twisting up with all the souls of the realm.

Or so he explained it to her when she asked.

"Mine, too?" Drizella shuddered at the thought of her soul taken up by the sorcerer without her even noticing.

"Naturally, little princess." He glanced her way then, the light casting a greenish tint to his skin.

"I'm not a princess," Drizella said. "I broke off the engagement." She had left Gregor behind, part and parcel of her renunciation of Lady Tremaine's machinations.

The Dark One tittered in delight. "You jilted a prince? I like you."

 _I'm not sure the feeling's mutual_ , Drizella didn't say. "So what do you need Alice for? She says you're saving the world, but where does she come into it?"

"Ah, ah, ah!" The Dark One held up an invisible thread. "As you can't see, this curse is no small undertaking. It will consume everything I have and more. Once it's complete, I won't be able to cast it."

Drizella looked at Alice. "You're just sitting around waiting for a man? That's unexpected..."

"And providing security as my magic fails me," added the Dark One.

"Also fresh vegetables and eggs," Alice put in. "Did I tell you about the chickens, Driz? Always wanted them when I was a kid, but never had the chance."

Drizella snorted. "A generous opportunity, indeed." She peered suspiciously at the Dark One. "And you're free with exposing your weaknesses..."

"I doubt you'll tell anyone."

"Why not?"

"Because you want to live," said the Dark One. "When this world goes pffft!" — he flicked his fingers next to his face, an impish clown's gesture — "my Dark Curse is your only hope of survival..."

Alice was convinced; Drizella believed that much. Convinced enough to take up residence here, digging in the garden like a peasant and chasing hens around the yard.

"Hello, Mrs. Bumbledog!" Alice called out to a wooden figure mounted on the fence post next to the gate. It was a weird striped dog-thing. Drizella could feel the enchantment on it — a protection spell. "Do you want to feed the chickens, Driz? I love this part."

Drizella accepted the bucket of table scraps with an indulgent sigh. She emptied it on the ground and shuffled back, watching the hens scurry over in a single-minded feeding frenzy. "It must be nice to lead such an uncomplicated life..."

"I'm building a house, too. Well, rebuilding. There was a house there once; I just need to give the ruins a nudge. You can help me."

And as simply as that, Drizella was roped into the Dark One's orbit. Probably a mistake, she thought, but she could hardly abandon Alice in the Crocodile's lair. If nothing else, the physical labor helped distract Drizella from her grief over her sister. It never went away, but gradually became easier to bear.

It was the first time in years that she felt free of her mother's demands, the first time she smiled and meant it, the first time she wasn't calculating the costs and benefits of striking up an association with someone. It was easy to forget, because Alice didn't think that way. Alice smiled back at her, simply because she was happy to see Drizella.

It was the first time since childhood that someone took any joy in her mere presence.


	14. Interlude (Storybrooke)

**Author's note:** Merry Christmas! Have an update, in which we remember s6 fondly, pretending that it was all wonderful and made perfect sense. (Thanks, Santa, for getting me those rose-tinted goggles I asked for!)

* * *

Storybrooke was at peace. The realms had been saved from collapse. The Dark Curse was broken, the Black Fairy dead, and no new villain had sprung up to threaten Storybrooke. Belle had her baby and her husband back. The chasm that their marriage had become was slowly being bridged, with help from Archie to navigate the gaps.

She knew all that. But even six months later, the nightmares persisted. She tried not to wake Rumple, knowing he would blame himself for her fears. And this time it wasn't his fault. It really wasn't — he had done everything he possibly could to reassure her of his love, his honesty, and his loyalty to his family. So when she woke up in the dead of the night, consumed with irrational terror and tears in her eyes, she kept herself still and her breathing even. But Rumple had already noticed the shift in weight, or perhaps the rapid beat of her heart.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked softly. He reached over to touch her hand.

"Nothing. Nightmares." She left it at that, hoping that they could go to sleep, rolling over to snuggle up against the warmth of his body. But the fear lingered, disturbing images breaking into her thoughts. Unable to rest, she rolled back the other way, not wanting to disturb Rumple further.

"Belle... what is it?" he murmured at last. "Please, you can tell me."

Belle shivered. "I keep thinking that I'm dead. That the Dark Curse was never cast, that I died in Regina's cell."

Rumple was silent for a long moment. Then, "I'm so sorry. You should have said..."

"I see her in my mind, this other Belle. She can't rest. There's something she wants to tell me, but I can't hear her properly. I feel like I'm going mad..."

Rumple brushed the hair from her neck and kissed her gently. "Shh. You're not. You're not going mad."

Belle closed her eyes. "I don't know why I keep dreaming of her."

Rumple sighed. "Do you remember when Regina's evil half used a genie to wish Miss Swan away? It... it generated a variant timeline. One where she was never the Savior."

"Mmm." Belle remembered hearing about it later, once the dust had settled.

"Well, there is a version of reality where you... where that happened. But I didn't die there. I know because he wants something from me."

Belle twisted her head around to give Rumple a startled look. His expression was unreadable in the dark, but she could guess. "You've been dreaming of your other self, too?"

"Yeah. Only I've been shutting him out. I can help you do the same."

Belle opened her mouth to agree. She had barely recovered from the post-sleeping curse burning nightmares when this new set had begun. At the last moment, she changed her mind. "No, wait."

"What?"

One of the most important changes they had made to repair their marriage was to be honest with each other and always hear each other out. And now they had already been dishonest, each of them hiding their nightmares from the other. And now... a Rumplestiltskin from another reality was fundamentally the same man she loved. He had to be. Therefore— "Maybe you should hear him out. See what he wants."

"He wants my power," muttered Rumple, sounding ashamed.

"Oh, Rumple." She caught his hand and squeezed it. "Maybe he has a good reason. Did you ask him why?"

"You don't understand. This is a world where I lost you, lost Bae." His voice turned vicious. "It's me without hope, and you have no idea how dangerous that makes him. He's a mad beast who needs to be put out of his misery."

Belle's heart broke for him. "Rumple. No. You've never been that..." But how easy it was for him to believe it.

"It's the truth."

"It's not. I've thought that about you before, but I was wrong." She had seen him broken, seen him lost to darkness, but now she also saw the love that always burned at his core. "You're stronger than you think you are. But sometimes you need someone to help you, and that's not weakness. Even the strongest person can't carry the weight of the whole world."

Rumple scoffed at that. "He thinks he can. That's why he wants the power."

"What?" That was so far out of her expectation that she sat up in the bed, looking down at Rumple until he sighed and sat up beside her.

"He means to break into our world, to become real. But his reality isn't real. It's a perversion of what should be, conjured up from a wish. The people there are phantoms, mirages. They shouldn't exist in the first place."

"But... but... _they_ think they're real?"

"They're no more real than a dream. A possibility you imagined too vividly. Let them fade into memory."

Belle frowned. That couldn't be right. "The other me... she looked so sad. Rumple, there's more to them than that. They may have begun in a wish, but... please, maybe if we just speak to the other you."

Rumple sighed, looking away.

"Don't you still have some of the sands of Morpheus? We can hear him out," Belle pleaded. "Just once."

It was a long time before Rumple finally answered, "Very well. We'll go together."

The sand took them to an old cottage in the middle of a sunny meadow. A sledgehammer stood propped against the wall near the door.

"This is where I lived, once," said Rumple. "With Bae." Then his gaze slid to the sledgehammer, and he muttered, "He put it there. The other me."

Belle gripped his hand in reassurance. "Why?"

"It's to remind me of when I became a coward." His voice dripped with self-loathing.

Belle winced. That couldn't be right, not if the other Rumplestiltskin wanted something from this one. Then she realized. "No. It's to remind you of when you became a parent. When you chose to put your child first."

"You always did know me better than I knew myself," came a voice Belle had not heard in years. The same and not the same, pitched higher, a vocal mask that set the speaker apart from the rest of humanity. The imp she had once known limped out of the cottage, leaning on a stick. "Belle..." Then his eyes moved to his Storybrooke counterpart. "And other-me. You've cut your hair; can't say it's much of an improvement."

"Rumple?" Belle looked from one to the other.

"She wanted to let you have your say," said her Rumple flatly, not taking his gaze off the other. "So speak."

Imp Rumple nodded. He seemed to sag against the door frame, glancing again at Belle before looking away. She wondered whether his limp was an effect of the dream, or whether something had happened to his waking self. "What do you want to hear? That I'm selfish, that I only crave power, that I'm weak and evil, the version of yourself that you would rather lock away in the dark? Well, yes, dearie, that's all true... but you forget that I'm not the only one conjured up out of Regina's spiteful little wish."

"No," growled Rumple. "But the others aren't trying to transgress the laws of reality. We've fought fate before, and how well did that ever turn out for us?"

The imp flinched as if struck, and Belle remembered that Baelfire was dead in both versions of reality. He took a breath, then said softly, "Lie down and die, is that it?"

"You're nothing but misbegotten dreams. You survive in the memories of the true versions of yourselves. Let reality stand."

"And what about those of us who never existed in your reality?"

"What?" Taken aback by the question, Rumple had no immediate rejoinder.

"You're not the only one who brought along a guest." The imp tilted his head and called into the cottage, "Alice, you can stop lurking in the corners of my dream and come out now."

A young woman maneuvered around the imp and stepped blinking out into the light. She grinned cheekily from under an unruly mass of blond hair. "Hey, I was worried about you." She looked at Belle and Rumple. "Hello, real people. Welcome to the zoo."

"Hello, I'm Belle," said Belle, trying to be polite.

"Who the hell are you?" Rumple didn't bother.

"I'm Alice Jones."

"Hook's daughter," added the imp. "And I'll thank you not to erase her from existence."

"The pirate has a daughter?" Rumple boggled. "How is that even possible?"

"Must I explain? When a man and a woman—"

Rumple cut him off with a sharp gesture. "I mean how can a wish create _people_? Even a genie shouldn't be that powerful."

"Except in the case of a self-sustaining, self-creating wish. As this was." The imp glanced at Alice, a hint of fondness briefly softening his expression. "Well. She's not the only one. The point of divergence occurred thirty years ago."

"Bae," breathed Rumple. "I can almost remember..."

"Yes." The imp fell silent, subdued by whatever memories were summoned by that name.

 _Not the only one._ Belle's breath stopped as she realized what it meant. They had been frozen in time in Storybrooke for twenty-eight years, but people in the wish realm had lived and died, a whole new generation born. Alice was only one of a multitude.

"Thirty years, aye, so who are you to say that our thirty years were less than yours?" Alice stepped closer and peered at Belle. "Tell me, Real Belle, will you look me in the eye and say I don't exist?"

"You don't," snapped Rumple, touching Belle's arm as she tensed. "And your version of Belle is dead, so I don't call that an improvement."

"Swings and roundabouts, mate," said Alice. "Burying our memories isn't going to make Fake Belle any less dead. It's just adding dirt to the grave."

Belle grip tightened on Rumple's hand. "She has a point, Rumple. And she deserves a chance. If we can help them..."

"To bring a whole realm of people into existence..." Rumple's tone became quieter, calmer. "His power is limited to that given by the wish, and it's not enough to make it real. He needs an outside energy source. Me."

"You," agreed the imp. "Or rather, the darkness you hold... Dark One." He smiled sardonically at Rumple. "Were you planning on keeping that burden forever? Time to lay it down, old man."

He had done it once, but not by choice. Belle remembered the Apprentice pulling the darkness from Rumple's dying heart. She shot him a worried look. "You mean... you wouldn't be the Dark One anymore? You'd be mortal again?"

"Magic on such a scale... I'm not sure even the Dark One's magic would suffice, not even if he drained me dry."

"Oh, you're not the only source, just the main one," said the imp. "But yes. By my calculations, it can be done."

Rumple grunted noncommittally. "I'm sure you've spent more thought on this than I have."

"Indeed."

"I _wasn't_ planning on living forever, no," Rumple conceded at last. "But I need to protect my family. The real one. Belle, and our son... he's only an infant now."

"Rumple, they _are_ real," Belle whispered, unable to meet Alice's reproachful gaze. "Just because there's some... some magical difference between 'real' and 'fake', doesn't mean they aren't _people_." She remembered the dead Belle of her nightmares. Her suffering had been real. "And... we were always planning to see the world. Including the land without magic. You don't need that power, Rumple, but we have to help these people."

Rumple eyed Alice and the imp. "They'll all be dumped into the land without magic..."

"On the other side of the continent from your precious Storybrooke," said the imp. "So you don't need to worry on that account."

"And if they hop on a plane with vengeance in mind? I won't have the power to stop them."

"Vengeance?" Belle looked at the two Rumples in bewilderment, but they only exchanged dark looks. "Vengeance for what?"

"Your Regina was a touch overdramatic in fetching the swan princess from the wish realm," said the imp. "Crushed hearts were involved. A grief-stricken boy ascended to the throne..."

"And yet you expect me to allow you through?"

"Through the looking glass and onto the chessboard," said Alice. "What's the fun of a game with only one side?"

"We have 'fun' enough in Storybrooke without duplicating ourselves," said Rumple. "This is more like inviting a tiger into one's house."

"I promised him my help." The imp held his counterpart's gaze until Rumple slowly nodded.

"I see."

Belle bit her lip, telling herself he didn't mean 'help the boy commit murder'. She knew he was capable of it — her version of Rumple had slain both his parents in cold blood — but he didn't want his loved ones to darken themselves that way. In the end— "Rumple, they deserve a chance. It's not their fault they were created from a wish. If you can use your curse to save them, I think in a way, that's turning darkness into light."

"You still want me to be a hero?" Rumple smiled slightly, then shook his head, but not in refusal. "Very well. So be it." He waved a hand, the Dark One dagger appearing in a puff of smoke. His impish counterpart did the same, and the two exchanged daggers.

Once the daggers changed hands, the world began to fade from around them. Belle saw the other Rumple's eyes linger on her, his expression a mixture of pain and longing. The last thing she heard before she woke was Alice thanking them.

Belle opened her eyes. "We... we did the right thing, didn't we?"

"Hmmm." Rumple stared down at the dagger still in his hands. Black letters on a silvery blade, identical to the original, before he had remade it from Excalibur. "I suppose we'll find out."


	15. The Fool

_The Fool has no number: it could be the first of the Major Arcana, or the last, but it's a mistake to pin it down. The card depicts a ragged vagabond on the brink of a precipice. Will he fall to his death? Will he walk away unharmed? Or will he sprout wings and fly?_

The first week of September, Captain Hook found himself riding around in circles in the backwoods of the Frontlands. The trip up to this point had been uneventful, mostly along the king's highways through civilized lands. Now... now it was past noon, and he was getting nowhere.

Two hours ago he had begun tying thin strips of cloth to the trees to mark his way, but even though he would swear he was retreading old ground, he never saw the strips again. He had visited these lands before, but the centuries had wrought drastic enough changes to make the place unrecognizable. Still, that wasn't the real reason he was lost.

"Bloody magic," he muttered. He had seen such tricks before on Neverland, when Pan roped the crew of the _Jolly Roger_ into his games. "Bloody Crocodile. Starfish, what the hell were you thinking?" The letter from his daughter, now tucked safely inside his shirt, had been terse to the point of being cryptic. Worried for her well-being, Hook had set off at once to check on her. At least she had included directions for travel and a standing invitation for her papa to visit.

A social call on the Dark One's house. Hook shuddered. What was the world coming to?

"Papa!"

"Alice?" Hook halted the horse and looked for his daughter, finding her half-hidden behind a tree trunk fifty feet away.

She smiled and waved a hand at him. "Come on. You can meet the chickens. Oh, and Drizella, too. Papa, I'm so glad you came to see me."

"Ah." He cleared his throat, awkward at having to dampen her enthusiasm. "I came to get you out of this place. I don't know what trick the Crocodile is playing on you, but he's dangerous, Starfish."

"He's going to save us all," Alice said earnestly. "I know you were enemies for a long time, but things change. People change them. Or what's the point of our world after all? We're more than blind reflections."

"What the devil are you talking about?" Hook found his daughter baffling often enough, usually in an endearing way, but this time she was working with the Crocodile. He must be taking advantage of her kind nature to enact some hideous curse or spell. Having spent the past few years studying magic himself, Hook was all too aware of the depravities dreamt up by sorcerers over the ages.

"You can ask him yourself. It's not far." Alice beckoned again to him and slipped a few yards farther away into the woods.

Hook nudged the horse to follow. "And why would I believe anything the Dark One says?"

Alice chuckled. "Now you sound like Drizella. It was the Dark One who saved us when we were trapped in stone."

"At a steep price, no doubt," muttered Hook.

"No more than I was willing to pay, and really it was worth it for what I learned."

"Learned?"

"Magic," explained Alice.

"He taught you dark magic?" Forgetting the poison in his heart, Hook pressed his horse to catch up to his daughter.

Alice held up her hands to ward him off. "No, don't!" She ducked behind a tree again. "No, he showed me how to work my own magic."

"And now he wants to use you," Hook said grimly. "All right. Take me to his house; I want to have a word with him."

"Lovely things, words. Meant to be shared, they are. Blood feuds, on the other hand... well, you know what they say about spilt blood."

Hook nodded, then realized that actually, no, he didn't know. "Ah, what _do_ they say about spilt blood?"

"It clots and turns brown, and you'll never get it back whence it came," Alice said. "So don't make holes in people who are helping you. Please, Papa."

Hook sighed. "Very well. For you, Starfish, I'll throw no more than words at the Crocodile."

Easier said than done, when he reached the hovel and realized that it was old enough to be the one Rumplestiltskin had lived in as a lame spinner. _Milah's house._

They were met outside by a dark-haired young woman, richly dressed with an air of cold superiority about her.

"Driz! Come meet my papa." Alice waved her over even as she retreated to a safe distance.

The woman's lips twitched, her eyes softening as she glanced at Alice. She nodded to Hook. "Ah yes. The man with the poisoned heart."

"Aye." Hook swung himself off the horse, leading it to the fence where he looped the reins around a post. He turned back and bowed. "Killian Jones, at your service. You must be Drizella." He looked around for the Crocodile.

"He's in there." Drizella nodded at the hovel. "You wanted to see him?"

Hook grimaced. "I suppose I do." He headed for the entrance, pushing aside the heavy drape that served as a door, and let his eyes adjust to the relative dimness.

"Ah, ah, what have we here? It's Captain Hook!" The exclamation was followed by an impish giggle. The Crocodile sat at his spinning wheel, but as far as Hook could see, he was spinning empty air, though his hands went through all the motions. He turned his eyes back to his work as he asked, "Come to kill me at last?"

"I'm here for my daughter," Hook said stolidly. He couldn't afford to provoke the Crocodile today.

"And she doesn't want you to kill me," guessed the imp. He twisted to face Hook, letting the wheel slow to a stop. He set down the handful of nothing he was spinning and looked over at Hook. "Sweet girl, your daughter. Freed herself from the witch's tower only to fall into a Crocodile's lair..."

"Let her go."

"Ah, but I'm spinning a very special spell, and that spell needs someone to cast it... someone who isn't me. The spell needs... your daughter." The Dark One made his demand in a sing-song voice that stirred up echoes of another time, another place.

 _I have a ship full of men who need companionship._

The Crocodile was taunting him.

"You bastard!" Hook seethed, fighting back the sickening lurch of his stomach as he remembered their encounter on the deck of the _Jolly Roger_. "Do you expect me to beg?"

"Was it any use when I begged you?" The Crocodile gave him a vile grin.

"No," Hook forced himself to say. He took a deep breath, reminding himself of what was important here. That wasn't his pride or his honor. "But I will. If it will move you, I'll get on my knees and beg."

The Crocodile stared at him then, his expression shifting to something unreadable. Then he abruptly waved a hand at Hook. "Take her! Take your daughter and go."

Hook gaped at him in disbelief. "Is this some trap? What are you really after?"

"I want you to leave. Both of you," snapped the Crocodile. "Yes, yes, your heart is poisoned, such tragedy, her touch could kill you — but you can still be a family. So take her away with you, captain, to your house or your little boat or wherever it is that you spend your hours."

"Do you mean that?" Hook felt more confused than ever. He watched as the Crocodile went back to his spinning, ostentatiously ignoring Hook. "We can go?"

No reply.

He waited for a while, but it seemed the Crocodile had been serious. Hook went back outside to find Alice and Drizella leaning against the fence, chattering and laughing together. Well. He was glad his daughter had found someone, and he kept silent for a while, observing them. They both seemed happy, he thought. He hoped Drizella would be able to come with them, too. If she owed the Dark One some obligation, Hook resolved to clear it for her, for Alice's sake.

Finally he cleared his throat to catch their attention. "Starfish, we should go soon. The Crocodile's agreed to release you." He looked at Drizella. "And whatever debt you owe the Dark One, let me speak to him on your behalf." He forced a halfhearted grin. "After all, we are old acquaintances."

Alice blinked at him in surprise. "Papa, I told you, we're here by choice. No one owes anyone anything."

Drizella merely sighed and turned her eyes heavenward.

Hook frowned. Was there some enchantment on them? He surreptitiously stuck his fingers into the vial of ointment in his coat pocket, the one that made magic visible, and dabbed some into his left eye while pretending that a gnat had flown into it.

The ointment revealed no spells hanging over either his daughter or her friend. That left him stymied, because as far as he was concerned, his reasoning was sound and any rational person would leave the Dark One's company at the earliest opportunity. Yet reason failed to sway either Alice or Drizella. Hook aimed his frown at the latter. "Why are _you_ working for a demon?"

"I'm not working for _him_." Drizella straightened up from where she had been leaning against the fence, but showed no inclination to vacate the premises. "I'm working for our future, which happens to require his assistance if it's not to be a very short one..."

Hook glanced in question at Alice, who nodded.

"It's true, Papa. I've seen it myself. You aren't you, and I don't exist at all, unless we help the Crocodile cast the Dark Curse."

"The Dark Curse?" Hook had thought it lost with the Evil Queen. "But... but that sends everyone to a new land, one without magic. Why would the Dark One want it cast?"

"Because this realm is dying, and the curse will give us new lives. Besides—" Alice's eyes gleamed, and she gripped the fence as if stopping herself from racing over to her father in her excitement. "— the curse that poisoned your heart, it's magical. That means in a land without magic, it can't hurt you anymore!"

Hook's jaw dropped. Alice could well be right. If so, it would be worth leaving everything he knew behind. He looked at Drizella, who shrugged slightly, but didn't contradict Alice. Then another thought occurred to him. "I was told that the Dark Curse would take away our memories. What if we don't even know each other there?"

"Every curse can be broken. We'll find a way, Papa."

"Assuming the Dark One is telling the truth about his curse, why did he want you?" Such a powerful curse would require an equally powerful sacrifice as its price. Hook's blood ran cold. _Not Alice!_

"He's burning up all his magic to power the curse," said Alice. "Even then, it may not be enough, but even a slim chance is better than none, eh? When he's done, I'll cast it for him."

"Why you? Why not Drizella? Or anyone else?"

"She could, but he thinks I have the best chance of success."

"Because you're the only one dumb enough to trust the Dark One to have our best interests at heart," said Drizella.

Hook loved Alice, but in this, he agreed with Drizella. "He's not been telling you everything, Starfish."

"No one tells anyone everything, Papa," said Alice. "Think how tedious that would be if they did."

"You know that's not what I mean." Hook remembered the look on the Crocodile's face. Hatred and a desire to hurt the enemy. Had he not harbored the same in his own heart? The Crocodile had taunted him, but then turned around and sent him away, releasing any claim on Alice. "If what you say is true, why did he tell me to take you and go?"

"He can't have!"

"Ask him yourself." Hook stepped away from the house to allow his daughter to go in without triggering the poison's effects.

Alice looked unconvinced, but she ducked inside the hovel. She emerged a few moments later. "Papa, what did you say to him?"

"What did _he_ say?" countered Hook.

"That... that he didn't need me anymore. That he would find another." Alice's voice rose in distress. "That can't be right. If I have the best chance of making the magic work... No, no, it should be me."

"He lied." It was all too clear, now. The Crocodile would never give up an advantage like that. He must have had some other reason.

"No, no, no," Alice repeated. "He wouldn't."

Drizella wrapped a soothing arm around Alice. "He would, you know. He's the Dark One. That's what he does."

And now the Crocodile had upset Alice. Anger rose in Hook. Rumplestiltskin was toying with them. "He won't, not anymore." He stalked back towards the doorway, Drizella pulling Alice to a safer distance. "Crocodile!"

As Hook stepped across the threshold, the Crocodile said without turning, "I told you to go away, dearie, you and your daughter and your daughter's friend and the horse you rode in on."

"No more games, Dark One." He strode forward and grabbed the spinning wheel with his hook, bringing it to an abrupt halt. With his left (temporarily enchanted) eye, he saw the roil of dark magic threaded through the sorcerer's fingers. A frisson of fear ran down his spine, and he forced himself to stand his ground.

The Crocodile hissed in irritation. "No games. Leave. Don't return. Was I not clear enough?"

"No." Hook released the wheel, but didn't back away. "Tell me why."

"Why?" The Crocodile tittered in his unsettling way. "Because I don't want you here. Any of you."

"It makes no sense. First you want Alice as your curse caster. Now you don't. What the devil are you playing at, Crocodile?"

"If I wanted games, I'd set up the chess board. I changed my mind." The Crocodile looked up at him slyly through a fringe of wiry hair. "I'm the Dark One. That's what I do. Rhyme or reason not required."

"No. No, I don't accept that. You've always had reasons for what you do." Hook hadn't always understood or respected them, but time and fatherhood had given him more insight into the cowardly spinner who was the core of the Dark One.

The Crocodile giggled again. "Then you know I have no reason to share them with you."

Hook ground his teeth. "Not with me. I'm not the one who cares. It's Alice you've hurt, Crocodile. She thinks... gods know what she thinks... but I won't have you whispering your lies inside her head. Whatever feud we have, she shouldn't have to pay."

"No. She shouldn't." The Crocodile's smirk dropped and his voice fell to a lower, more sober pitch. "And that's why she must leave. The Dark Curse has a price, and that price would leave a hole in her heart."

"What price?"

The Crocodile didn't answer.

"What price, damn you?" Hook glared at him. "You... you never told her?"

The Crocodile sighed in defeat. "I hoped she would come to see the necessity, in time. But I can find another caster. Someone more... damaged."

Hook shuddered. "Someone like the Evil Queen?"

"Someone like that. But... if the curse is cast in hate, the consequences for all of us, well, shall we say it won't be pretty."

"Could I cast it?" Hook heard himself ask, and he realized that sometime in the past hour, he had come to believe in this insane tale of their world ending. To believe that this Dark Curse was the only thing that could save them. The Dark One was many things, but Rumplestiltskin had been honest in his way, even as a mad, rage-driven demon.

But the Crocodile shook his head.

Hook felt a sting of disappointment. "Because I lack the gift of magic?"

"It's not magic that is needed to cast the curse." The Crocodile fell silent for a beat, then said, "You wouldn't ask if you knew the price."

"Tell me, damn you!"

"To cast the Dark Curse, you must crush the heart of the person you love the most." The Crocodile met his eyes, a smile twisting his lips. "Not so eager now, eh, pirate?"

Hook stumbled back, appalled. "Not Alice..."

"You can't save her by murdering her, no. So it won't be you casting my curse, dearie."

Hook put the pieces together. "So... when you wanted Alice to cast it, you meant for me to die."

"Well, I'd prefer to kill you myself, but alas, that would accomplish nothing."

Hook snorted. "No, I suppose not." He paced back and forth across the limited open space of the hovel, trying to think. "But all this about our world ending, that's the truth?"

"Yes."

"And putting all your power into this curse to save everyone?"

"Again, yes."

"But you're the Dark One. Surely there must be some way for you to survive without giving up your magic."

It was a long time before the Crocodile replied. A soft "Yes."

Hook stopped pacing, pivoting to jab his eponymous attachment at the sorcerer. "Then why? Why the curse, why bother with the rest of us? Why decide to spare me now?"

The Crocodile's eyes went distant. "Because I made a deal. And because Bae would want me to save you. All of you."

"And you think I won't sacrifice for my daughter?" Hook gestured at himself. "These youthful looks are a lie. Even discounting time spent in Neverland, I've lived some threescore years. A full life by all accounts."

"Your point?"

"Maybe you should let Alice cast your curse after all." He knew his daughter wouldn't want to, but in the end, it was natural for children to bury their parents. He had killed his own father, hadn't he? At least this way, the death wouldn't be wasted.

The Crocodile sighed. "As touching as your fatherly bond is, things have become more complicated... is it a fleeting youthful romance, or could it be true love?"

"Ah. You mean Drizella."

"Alice loves you both, of course, but when it comes to what the magic requires... well, that is a question."

Hook grimaced, imagining the horror of getting it wrong. "She could end up killing both of the people she loves the most..."

The Crocodile nodded. "Yes, quite the gruesome proposition."

A mad thought took root in his mind. It was impossible and inevitable in a way he hadn't recognized before Alice had shown him the world through different eyes. "You could cast the curse yourself, if..."

"If there was someone I loved. But I've outlived everyone I've ever loved."

Hook nodded. "Aye, but you're not dead yet. That means you can love again."

"I find that highly unlikely."

"Never say never." He smirked, turning his head to present his best profile. "Just look at this devilishly handsome face..."

The Crocodile snorted in disgust. "No, thank you. My nightmares are bad enough already."

Hook dropped his pose and took a more serious tone. "For the fate of the world, can't we find a way?"

"Is this some novel scheme of revenge you've cooked up?"

"If it was, it would be your heart crushed in my fist and not the other way around," Hook said, but he thought if this succeeded, he could derive an ironic satisfaction in knowing that his old enemy would also know the pain of having his loved one murdered by the Dark One. "But we both know the world will end before I love you more than my daughter."

"That's the first intelligent thing you've said today." The Crocodile finally rose from his seat at the spinning wheel and moved to face Hook. "But what you propose..."

"I mean it." Hook reached out slowly for the Dark One's hand and pressed it against his own chest. "You held my heart in your hand once. I offer it to you again, if it will save Alice. Save everyone."

"And Milah?" The Crocodile stood very still, making no move to remove his hand. "You'd betray her memory?"

Hook could feel the agitated thump of his heart under that hand. He remembered how it had felt when the Dark One's fingers had squeezed around it, an eye blink away from death when Milah had intervened on his behalf. "Milah is centuries dead. Perhaps it's time I met her again."

"And what will she say to you, knowing herself unavenged?" The Crocodile's hand slipped through leather and cloth, skin and bone and flesh to close around Hook's heart. This time it was pulled free with deceptive gentleness.

Hook stared, mesmerized, at the thing pulsing on the scaly palm. Everything had gone distant, yet clear. He said slowly, "Milah would think me a fool for my obsession. You know her true love was adventure." Then he made a rare admission, "Vengeance was my quest, not hers."

"A quest you gave up when you wanted my help to free your daughter from her tower."

"You've paid for what you did to Milah — I saw your cell." Compelled to honesty by the Dark One's grip on his heart, he said, "I was a pirate. I've taken lives as well, and paid less for them."

The Crocodile gazed down at the heart, caressing it with his free hand. "Even so. A curious proposal... to put yourself before a man's eyes that way."

"I spent most of my life at sea, on board ships crewed only by men," Hook said slowly. It wasn't something openly spoken of to outsiders, but he had already gone past the point of caring. "And I didn't lie, that day when I told you that my crew had needs. That they craved companionship. How do you imagine those needs were met?"

"I see. Is that your offer, then? To gift me with your services in hopes of winning my love?" The Crocodile's gaze raked him, a hint of amusement in the quirk of his lips. "But as the captain, surely it was their duty to service you, rather than the reverse..."

"Aye, well." And indeed it would have been a loss of face for himself and his ship to be known as one who let himself be used as a woman. But what did it matter now? He could be as shameless as the Crocodile, if it spared his daughter. He remembered what it was to be forced to kneel before another man (centuries had passed, but not enough to wipe away the memories from his youth), and he sensed the same knowledge in his old enemy. "I wasn't always a captain. And... it wasn't always unpleasant."

The Crocodile scoffed, returning to his contemplation of Hook's heart. "I hadn't realized you had a taste for 'companionship' of that variety."

"It's not something a man flaunts," said Hook. It was different for women. They made marriages to cement alliances or consolidate property or income, but what women were to each other was unimportant in the eyes of society. That his daughter had found love with another woman was surprising, but not distressing. For Hook to admit to such desires was far more damning.

The Crocodile nodded. Of course he had known that. Men who lay with men were held in contempt throughout the realm, which was why even pirates swaggered into port loudly proclaiming their lust for women, no matter what happened at sea. Or behind the closed doors of a private room.

"But if the world is truly ending, what does it matter what men think of us?"

"Indeed." The Crocodile lifted his eyes from Hook's heart. "But what made you think I'd be receptive to such a proposal?"

Hook was taken aback at the question. He had always assumed— "Milah said... the way she had to harry you into coupling with her. Why she sought male company at the tavern. And..." He gestured vaguely, indicating the Crocodile's flamboyant, eye-catching garb, and the impish mannerisms. "Well, the way you dress and act, the spinning... it's..."

"What, womanish?" The Crocodile showed his teeth, enjoying Hook's discomfort. "Is that what you mean? Do you resent the Dark One's freedom to walk and talk as he pleases?"

Hook flushed. "Aye, it was foolish of me. A woman is still human. This is more like courting Death." His gaze went to the heart, so vulnerable, in the Dark One's palm.

"No, no, that's dear Regina's line."

"Eh?"

"Never mind." The Crocodile sighed, lost in his own thoughts for a while. Then, "As you were honest with me, I will say that in truth it matters little to me, but as I was, I was despised enough without pursuing forbidden affections. And as I became, few enough were willing to even bear my touch..."

Hook knew the Crocodile could have bespelled himself to appear as whatever he wished. Could have been as handsome as Adonis with the wave of a hand. But in all these years, Hook had heard no tales of the Dark One seducing mortals under a fairer guise. For some reason, he had chosen not to. After all these years, had he grown comfortable in his skin? Hook suspected not. There had always been an edge of self-loathing underlying the impish mockery.

"I suppose I've grown accustomed to your hideous face," said Hook.

"And I suppose I shouldn't expect flattery from a pirate."

"I thought you might appreciate honesty." It was a gamble, but the Dark One wasn't some tavern wench to be won for a night's tumble. It was _love_ that the magic required, and magic recognized sincerity.

"Then appreciate this," the Crocodile hissed, sudden fury contorting his features. He thrust the heart back into Hook's chest. "I don't want this. I don't want your _love_ , and I have none to give you."

Hook gasped, his heart in too much agony for him to speak.

"Love is too fragile for the likes of us. I loved, once, and she loved me." The Crocodile shoved Hook at the door with a surge of magic. His voice rose to a shout. "But she is _dead_ , and you are nothing, NOTHING to what she was, do you hear me?"

"Half the forest hears you," grated Hook, wincing as another blast of energy hit him, but he held stubbornly to the door frame.

"But you refuse to listen." The Crocodile glared at him, rage and anguish barely distinguishable in his murderous expression.

His grief was too fresh, thought Hook, but it had been years. Decades that the Dark One had been imprisoned. He knew better than to say so. Instead, he would have to provoke the Crocodile to get him to see Hook instead of the ghost lodged in his memories. "No. You listen to me. When I win your heart, Crocodile, and I will win it, then you take mine, and save my daughter."

"Get. Out."

A swirl of black smoke enveloped Hook, sweeping him up and depositing him in the yard outside the cottage. He landed with a thump, disorientated. Then, recovering himself, he tried to get back inside. He couldn't find the doorway. _Bloody sorcery!_

"Papa?" Alice called anxiously. She was sitting on a fence rail while Drizella fed Hook's horse apple pieces. "Are you all right? What did he say to you? What did you say to him?"

Hook pasted on a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Starfish. I just need a moment to catch my breath." He sat down on the wooden bench outside the cottage.

"Does he still want us to leave?"

"Aye." Hook glanced at the place where the doorway should be and raised his voice to add, "But I'm not going anywhere..."

No answer.

Drizella looked at him curiously. "Did the Dark One explain why he suddenly changed his mind about Alice?"

Hook sighed. Running a weary hand over his face, he said more quietly, "Aye, he did. And trust me, he's right, Alice can't be his curse caster. It's the Crocodile's curse; it's his to cast."

"But he said he couldn't," protested Alice.

"He thought he couldn't, but there's a way for him to do it, if he can accept my help."

"Your help? But you're not a wizard," said Alice.

"It's not that kind of help, Starfish." He couldn't explain to her, not yet. At least not until he had some hope of success. He deflected their other questions with his own questions about how Alice had met the Dark One, and what her life was like here.

Alice enthusiastically led her father around the place, showing off her garden, her chickens, and the newly rebuilt house where she and Drizella now lived. They conjured up a cot from somewhere. "Here, Papa, you can sleep here tonight. We can put the horse in the sheep shed out back."

And at least for one evening, they could forget the doom hanging over them and the presence of the realm's darkest sorcerer only a short walk away.


	16. Is Your Snark a Boojum?

_"But oh, beamish nephew, beware of the day,_  
 _If your Snark be a Boojum! For then_  
 _You will softly and suddenly vanish away,_  
 _And never be met with again!"_  
 _— Lewis Carroll, "The Hunting of the Snark"_

The warding on the Dark One's door was paper thin. Drizella pulled it aside to check on the sorcerer when he hadn't emerged for breakfast. Not wanting to be blasted out of surprise, Drizella said loudly, "You know, Alice's father is going to eat all the bannocks, so if you want a share..."

Alice had made them that morning, having learned the technique from the Dark One. The barley bannocks were peasant fare, but he had surprisingly plain taste in food. And Alice's father had been a pirate, so anything softer than a rock and uninfested by insects could be counted as an improvement.

The Dark One rolled over to face the doorway. He covered his eyes with an arm and made an irritated groaning noise. His display of temper the day before had obviously cost him a steep price, taken from his own vitality now that most of the darkness he held was harnessed to the curse he was crafting.

"What is the story with you and Hook?" Drizella had heard Alice's side of it, but that was clearly incomplete. Her father might have failed her once (resulting in the curse keeping them apart) but he was still her hero. Thinking of her own family history, Drizella feared that what Hook hadn't told his daughter could end up hurting her. "What aren't you telling Alice?"

"It's all in the past," the Dark One grumbled. "Ancient history."

"Well, he doesn't seem to think so."

"Then he's wrong. Why are any of you still here?" The Dark One dropped his arm and sat up on the bed, his motions slow and pained. "I told you all to go away."

"Will you kill us if we don't?"

The Dark One glowered at her. He muttered petulantly, "Time was, I wouldn't be bothered by such foolish questions — you'd already be dead!" Then he sighed, slumping back. "But these days, it isn't worth the effort. If I fail, we'll all evaporate like a bad smell."

"So what were you and Alice's father arguing about? It's something to do with the Dark Curse, isn't it? Not only did you suddenly change your mind about Alice casting it, so did he."

"He's not a complete idiot."

"So what did you say to convince him?" Drizella persisted. Was the curse dangerous for the caster? Dark magic was rife with hidden perils. Yet if Hook wanted to protect his daughter, why stay? Why the secrecy?

"If he wants you to know, he's free to tell you." The Dark One limped over to his spinning wheel and sat down on his stool.

"But why won't you tell Alice?" Drizella risked taking a step towards the Dark One. "She deserves to know, after you dragged her into this in the first place!"

"I didn't tell her because I'm a monster." The Dark One stared at the wheel, not touching it yet. "And what she deserves is a happy life far away from monsters."

"Yeah, and how happy do you think it will be, us never knowing if the world is ending tomorrow or the next day?" Drizella crossed her arms and frowned at the Dark One. "The captain thinks he can do something about that if he stays here. Alice won't leave her father, and as for me... well, it seems I'm the only sane person around here."

The Dark One snorted. "Mad as a sack of weasels, the lot of you. He's wrong. I'm the Dark One, dearie, I don't need help from an ex-pirate with delusions of heroism."

"Fine. What about me and Alice? I broke through the wards on your doorway in half a breath. I hear Gothel's looking for you, and I don't imagine you'd welcome her brand of 'help'. Admit it, you need our protection."

"Go away."

Knowing that was as much of an admission as she was likely to get, Drizella retreated back outside. She found Hook saddling his horse. "I thought you were staying?"

"Aye, and for longer than I planned when I rode up here," said Hook.

"He's going to move here with us," explained Alice. "We can fix up another house for him."

"This place is becoming a regular hamlet," Drizella said. "The Dark One will be delighted."

"Well, I'm not playing happy farmer. That's why I need to go back, sort things out with my employer, and hire a cart to move my gear," said Hook. As they explained it to Drizella, Hook had never succeeded in curing his poisoned heart, but along the way he had learned to make healing potions to treat fevers, plague, cholera, and various other ailments trivial and serious. Now he planned to brew them in quantity for trade.

"We can't all live on darkness and magic," he said. "And this may serve as atonement for the sins of the man I used to be."

Alice smiled, proud of her father, and Drizella was glad for her sake that she had at least one parent who loved her without reservation, and wanted to be a good person for her.

Drizella was only a little envious. Mostly she dreaded the moment when it all came crashing down. In her experience, happiness came with a catch. Parents had their own plans, plans that ended in tears and broken families. So when both Hook and the Dark One refused to speak of what had passed between them, Drizella's private unease grew. She watched and waited, keeping her doubts to herself, a habit ingrained in her from childhood. It wasn't that she wanted to hide anything from Alice, but rather that she didn't want to hurt her with baseless speculation.

Was it baseless? Captain Hook made regular calls on the Dark One. Welcomed or not, he remained human and breathing, which he took as encouragement. Drizella had her doubts, but she wondered _why_ the captain was so interested. She was reminded of all the times her mother had sent her into society to cultivate this or that acquaintance, to woo this prince or that. But again, why would Hook _woo_ the Dark One? Was he under orders from a hidden third party? Was he trying to spy out some further secret kept by the Dark One?

Drizella and Alice had everything in the vicinity of the Dark One's house tightly warded against scrying, locator spells, random intrusion, ill intent, and every other danger they could think of, but a beloved family member had to be permitted in. Drizella subtly tested the captain, trying to suss out any outside influence, but came up blank. He really was here for his daughter, it seemed.

And possibly the Dark One. Drizella's results were mixed on that count. Sometimes she thought he merely hated his Crocodile, but at times Hook betrayed an odd fascination, an incongruous attachment. As the seasons turned, fall into winter into spring, and no more answers were forthcoming, Drizella's doubts only deepened.

Alice noticed. Being Alice, she was perfectly willing to wake Drizella up in the middle of the night to ask. "Driz. Oi, wake up."

"Huh?" Drizella had finally managed to doze off when Alice's hand landed on her, shaking her awake.

"What's wrong? What has you tossing and turning all night, twitchy as a tufted snark?"

"Nothing." At Alice's reproachful look, Drizella sighed. "Everything. I don't know."

Alice found her hand and squeezed it. "You can tell me?"

She couldn't. Her thoughts were too muddled to articulate. "Alice... you know I love you, but for the gods' sake, can't this wait until morning?"

Alice was silent. Just as Drizella began to doze off again, Alice said, "Are you afraid that we'll softly and suddenly vanish away?"

Drizella rolled onto her back, her eyes still shut, but her fears flooded her thoughts again. Then, "Aren't you? Do you trust that the Dark Curse will save us? That we'll live happily ever after in a new land? Magic is never as simple as that..."

"No, but do you know another way? To change what isn't to what is, well, the Dark One's magic is the only thing powerful enough."

"And who is to cast his curse? He says he'll find someone else, but I haven't seen him searching out candidates, have you?"

"He's not Gothel," said Alice. "But he's a seer. Maybe he's seen something."

"Maybe." Drizella left it at that, Alice's own worries set to rest for now. In her own head, the mention of Gothel's name planted the seed of what was probably a terrible idea.

* * *

"Drizella, my child." Gothel's smile was sickly-sweet, a hidden threat beneath the overt friendliness. "What brings you back to the fold?"

 _Nothing would ever bring me back to your fold_ , Drizella didn't say. In fact, she had hoped never to see Gothel again, but after months of unanswered questions, she had decided to seek answers elsewhere. Whatever else the witch was, Gothel was ancient and knowledgeable. Drizella forced herself to smile back. "I heard you were looking for the Dark One."

"Oh?" Yes, Gothel was definitely interested. "And have you found him? Is that where you and my daughter have been hiding?"

Drizella schooled her face to chilly indifference. "Our paths have crossed. Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

"I think not. You came to me for a reason. Why waste time with childish guessing games?" Gothel took her hand with another smile. "Now, come inside and we can discuss matters civilly over a cup of tea."

Drizella let herself be drawn into Gothel's parlor. It was a humble affair, unlike Lady Tremaine's grand drawing room, but just as false in its illusion of welcome.

"The Dark One is planning to enact a curse," Drizella said carefully once they were settled. She accepted a cup of tea but didn't drink it. "The so-called Dark Curse, intended to take everyone to a new realm."

"Is he, indeed?" Gothel seemed unsurprised by the information. As Drizella had hoped, the witch must know something about the curse already. "And who, may I ask, is to cast this darkest of curses? You, Drizella? Is that why you ran away?"

"I didn't run away."

Gothel gave her a long, considering look. "No? I see."

"But no, not me. I don't know who he has in mind, if he even has someone lined up."

"Hmm. Curious. Rumplestiltskin always has a plan, you know. I hope you weren't silly enough to trust him."

"I'm here, aren't I?" If she sounded like a sulky child, all the better. Perhaps Gothel would be careless and let something slip. "I know he has a plan. He just hasn't told _me_ what it is."

Gothel smirked. "He is a foul, manipulative beast. As well that you have left his circle."

"If he's so evil, why are you looking for him?"

"Not him. For the Dark Curse. It's too dangerous to be left in his hands." Gothel's tone dripped with sincerity, anointing herself as a moral guardian of all the realm, on a par with the Blue Fairy or the late Queen Snow.

"He says it can save us."

"Indeed, but it can also rewrite our lives. By its very nature, it can only be cast by the most selfish of beings. Would you cede control of your very name and soul to such a one?"

"Hmm. So does that mean you have no plans to cast it yourself?"

"Of course not, child. I strive only to see that the curse falls to the right caster, one who though flawed, may be set on a better path through my guidance." Gothel's eyes narrowed as she regarded Drizella. "I'm afraid you don't qualify."

 _Oh, thank you very much._ Drizella smiled back tightly. "No? Is the curse very difficult to cast?"

Gothel chuckled. "The main difficulty lies in willingness to pay the price."

"Oh?" Drizella adopted an expression of bored indifference.

Gothel nodded, leaning forward to drop her bombshell. "The caster must crush the heart of the person they love the most."

Drizella couldn't suppress a small gasp, and Gothel sat back smugly. Drizella opened her mouth, shut it again, changed what she was going to say, then said, "You say 'selfish'. But if it's to save the world, wouldn't that be considered selfless?"

Gothel shrugged. "Either way, it's the darkest of dark magic. Whether the end justifies the means is a never-ending argument in this corrupt world we live in."

"But you still want to use it."

"Only as the first step in cleansing that corruption from the world," said Gothel. "As you've taken a step, however small, towards redeeming yourself by coming to me."

"Yeah, no. No, thank you. I... I need to think." Drizella stood up, gathering her magic.

Gothel made no attempt to oppose her. "Go. Think. In the end, you'll see that in a world of evil, I offer the only true solution."

That Gothel actually seemed to believe her own words only made her creepier, thought Drizella, suppressing a shudder. She teleported herself to the outskirts of town, then walked the rest of the way through the falling snow to the inn, where she found a table in the common room and ordered a bowl of soup. Its heat calmed her nerves as she mulled over what Gothel had told her.

 _The caster must crush the heart of the person they love the most._

No wonder both the Dark One and Captain Hook were in agreement that Alice shouldn't be the one to cast the curse. Fine, Drizella wouldn't argue with that. But then what was Hook's intention now?

A hideous thought occurred to her. What if Hook meant to supply the heart? Why else would he stay, neighbor to his enemy? Why else was he constantly paying court in a house that didn't welcome him? He planned to win the Dark One's love.

It was completely absurd.

It was exactly the kind of insanity that ran in Alice's family. And no one had told Alice the plan: the Dark One presumably because he didn't think it had a hope in hell of succeeding, and Hook because he was trying to protect his daughter. Some protection! Drizella shook her head at the imaginary Hook sitting across from her. _Do you think she'll grieve less if your death comes as a surprise? Or that she'll be less upset because you hid your plans from her?_

No, no, this would never do. Drizella resolved to find a better alternative.

* * *

The pirate must have a death wish, Rumplestiltskin decided. Today, just as he did every day, he swaggered into the hovel bearing gifts and smiles he no doubt considered irresistible.

Rumplestiltskin resisted.

 _Just kill him._

Rumplestiltskin gritted his teeth and endured Hook's attempts at seduction. The man _was_ very pretty, but first impressions cut deep in this case, and Rumplestiltskin heard only mockery in Hook's sweet nothings. However sincerely he meant them now, he had just as sincerely despised the lame coward back then. Rumplestiltskin reminded Hook of their encounters at the tavern and on the _Jolly Roger_.

"I was wrong," Hook said. "Wrong to mock a man trying to keep his family together, and wrong to kick a beggar in the street."

"Wrong to murder a wife, wrong to abandon a son," said Rumplestiltskin in a sing-song voice, ticking off each sin on his fingers. "Wrong, wrong, wrong... all wrong."

"Exactly." Hook set a basket onto the dining table. He pulled out a bottle and a pair of antique glass beakers.

Rumplestiltskin eyed him warily. In a more sober tone, he said, "We could go on all day and all night making a list. Wrong to sell a boy to save your own skin, wrong to turn a queen down a dark path, wrong to laugh in the face of her destruction... and none of it cause for us to love each other. Rather the opposite."

"Aye, but that's all in the past. Shouldn't we strive to better ourselves?"

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "You can strive. It's too late for me, dearie. The best I can hope for now is that our children survive the death of our realm."

"Now see, that is the hope of a good man," said Hook earnestly. "It's not too late for you, Crocodile." He took out a vial and poured three drops of a murky red liquid into each glass.

Rumplestiltskin sighed. "Believe what you like." He gestured at the vial. "What the hell are you doing now?"

Hook grinned and winked, tossing the vial to Rumplestiltskin.

Rumplestiltskin caught it easily and brought it to his nose for a sniff. Then he stared incredulously at Hook. "A love potion?" They both knew perfectly well there was no such thing as a real love potion, only aphrodisiacs of varying efficacy. And the "charms" inscribed on the glasses were mere wishful thinking.

"Just a little something to put us in the mood." He gestured suggestively. "Get things moving, aye?" He opened the bottle and poured in a healthy measure of rum into each glass, swirling them to dissolve the potion.

"The only thing that's going to move is you," snapped Rumplestiltskin. "Outside! After that, what happens between you and your good right hand is none of my concern."

"Look, mate, do you know how long it took me to read all those bloody alchemy books? You could show some appreciation!"

"Start a reading circle, then." Rumplestiltskin went back to his spinning. His head ached from the effort of holding the curse together. It was worse with every additional life he wound into its thread. He had no energy to spare for Hook or anyone else.

Hook sighed and sat down at the table by himself. The times he had attempted a more direct approach on the Dark One's virtue hadn't ended well for Hook. Now he idly pushed the glasses around each other. Then he poured the contents back into the bottle. "At least I'll get a good price for this in Hamelin."

"Bravo." When Hook showed no signs of budging, Rumplestiltskin stopped the wheel and turned to frown at the ex-pirate. "This is pointless. One doesn't simply manufacture love in service to ulterior motives. This is magic, not some royal alliance."

"Even if magic can't be satisfied tonight, what of the simple pleasures of the flesh?" Hook's voice grew plaintive, and Rumplestiltskin wondered how much he had drunk before crossing the doorstep. "How long has it been for you? Don't you want... something?"

"That... that part of me died in Reul Ghorm's cell," Rumplestiltskin said, turning back to his spinning wheel. So much of his humanity had been sacrificed to the darkness that sometimes he forgot his body existed as more than an anchor for a broken, half-dead soul. "And soon, soon most of the rest will follow... only the ghost of the spinner will be left."

"To be dragged into the new world you've promised, aye," said Hook. "And surely after all this, he deserves some comfort."

Rumplestiltskin laughed bitterly. "Because you think that if forgiveness is possible for me, then it is for you as well?"

Hook pointed his bottle at Rumplestiltskin. "And that's why you and I need to be the ones casting the curse. The Dark One and the pirate die like heroes, with honor, saving the world."

Whoever survived at the end of this, Rumplestiltskin would no longer be the Dark One. Losing the magic that had defined him for so long was not much different from death. Death for Killian Jones would be more literal. He _did_ have a death wish, concluded Rumplestiltskin.

* * *

Drizella hadn't been imagining things; Captain Hook really was mad enough to court the Dark One. From what she could see, Rumplestiltskin tolerated Hook's efforts, sometimes with irritation and sometimes with amusement.

Drizella discussed it in a low-key way with Alice without revealing what she had learned from Gothel. Alice was happy that her father and the Crocodile were developing a better relationship. Drizella bit her tongue. Alice would be devastated when one of them ended up killing the other, whatever the rationale. No, this was a completely preventable tragedy. Drizella devoted herself to learning more about how the curse worked, borrowing magical texts and the Dark One's notes and badgering him with questions.

"I take it Gothel was in a chatty mood," Rumplestiltskin said at one point, looking fed up with Drizella's nosiness. "And now you're trying to save Alice's papa from the Crocodile?"

"She was separated from him for so long. They deserve a chance to be together, as much as they can be."

Rumplestiltskin looked away, his face hidden by a curtain of hair. "Yes..."

"So I have to find out everything I can about this curse. It's incredibly complex... isn't it possible you missed something?"

Rumplestiltskin scoffed. "I was very thorough. Look all you like. But you can save yourself the trouble. Killian Jones's heart won't be used to cast the Dark Curse."

"Then whose? Have you seen something?" demanded Drizella.

Rumplestiltskin shook his head and refused to answer.

Drizella sighed. "All right. There's another thing. It's a _curse_. We'll lose our true selves forever, unless it's broken."

"Any curse can be broken, dearie."

"But do you have a plan?"

"Once I did. A child of true love was to be the Savior to break the Dark Curse. Alas, it is not to be, not for us: that Savior is no longer with us." Rumplestiltskin twisted a loop of thread in his hands, turning it into a cat's cradle, flipping it from one shape to another. "So I had to... improvise."

"How?"

"A little light magic, a little instability. A sliver of memory to slip through the jaws of the curse. It will break, in the end."

"I hope you know what you're doing." It all seemed dreadfully uncertain from beginning to end.

Thinking it over later, Drizella decided that there was no logical reason to use Hook's heart. Out of all the population of the realm, there must be someone near death who was the most-loved of a decent person. People who could be persuaded to make the sacrifice for the greater good, and a caster who wouldn't take advantage of the curse's power to create misery. And if the first such pair they found refused, there must be a second, a third...

Then she thought that given Alice's kind heart, she wouldn't want _anyone_ to die prematurely. But, Drizella argued silently, it was a _curse_ , which meant dark magic, which meant a dark price. Did it have to be? _That_ was the answer Drizella searched for in the Dark One's books and notes. She searched, but found no way to evade the price.

Then one spring morning, Rumplestiltskin hobbled out of his cottage and announced that he was done, and Drizella thought she was too late.

"Done?" Drizella and Alice exchanged glances. Alice, who had been splitting firewood, put down her axe and helped Rumplestiltskin make his way over to the bench, where he collapsed, closing his eyes and looking utterly drained.

Drizella brought him a cup of water from the well. "So does that mean you're going to cast it soon?" Despite his previous assurances to her, she cast a worried look at Hook's cottage.

Rumplestiltskin's hands trembled with the effort of holding the cup to his lips. Without opening his eyes, he whispered, "Not now. Summer solstice."

"Right, of course." Drizella knew from her studies the importance of aligning the sun and other astronomical bodies to optimize the effectiveness of a spell. In this case, the summer solstice was the time when the caster stood in the strongest light, making it easier to penetrate the veil between realities. They couldn't afford to lose any possible advantage. Simply creating the curse had left even the Dark One weakened nearly to the point of disintegration.

"Are you all right?" asked Alice. The cup slid from Rumplestiltskin's fingers as they loosened and he fell into unconsciousness.

"Of course he's not all right," muttered Drizella. "He's spun the whole world through his head and into the curse. Imagine what that must be like."

"Right, I should tell Papa..." Alice dashed off towards Hook's cottage.

"What do you think he...?" Drizella started to ask Alice's back, but it was no use. Drizella shifted Rumplestiltskin to a hopefully more comfortable position on the bench, then sat next to him and put her fingers to his neck, checking his pulse. Well. Still alive, at least.

A few minutes later, Alice returned with her father in tow. Hook nodded to Drizella, smiling faintly as he lifted a glass vial.

"Healing potion number eight, a general restorative," he explained.

Drizella stood up, giving Hook space to administer the potion. She folded her arms and watched warily.

Alice came up beside her, draping an arm over her shoulder, leaning close to say, "Don't worry. Papa's got much better at brewing those."

"Mmm." Drizella wasn't so sure. Half the ones Hook made weren't actually magical, and the ones that were, Alice had a hand in. Alice, with her sometimes unpredictable gifts...

Hook scooted close to Rumplestiltskin, cradling the unconscious man's head in his lap to feed him the potion. Seeing how tenderly Hook held Rumplestiltskin's jaw as he opened his mouth, how carefully he angled the vial to let the drops go in, and how he stroked his throat to make him swallow, Drizella wondered...

Wondered what feelings Hook actually held for his Crocodile, and whether there was a possibility those feelings could be returned — and she was afraid again. Drizella reached up and squeezed Alice's hand. The summer solstice was still two and a half months away. They had time.


	17. The Two of Swords

_The Two of Swords card depicts a blindfolded woman. She sits calmly with her back to the sea, holding two swords balanced before her, crossed and upright. This is a moment of indecision, of uncertainty. She cannot see what lies ahead, but the burden of choice weighs her down._

* * *

Time was running out. The summer solstice was only a few days away.

Drizella became increasingly paranoid, feeling that she was missing some key piece of information known to everyone except her, or that there was a plan and she was being deliberately excluded. Alice sensed her anxiety and did her best to reassure Drizella, but that only made her worry more.

Rumplestiltskin had slept for most of two weeks, then gradually emerged from his curse-induced exhaustion to limp around their little settlement in a depressed, ill-tempered state. That was on the days when he could bring himself to get up out of bed at all. Hook hovered around him solicitously, the two of them exchanging grim looks in a silent battle of wills. It made Drizella want to throw a bucket of chicken feed at their heads. Now that Rumplestiltskin no longer had a bottomless well of power at his fingertips, it might even be safe to do so.

Unfortunately, it would be no help at all.

Drizella tried asking about the casting of the curse, but no one was answering questions anymore.

"Is there even a plan?" Drizella was reduced to grabbing Alice by the shoulders to try to shake the truth from her. "Is there? It's almost time to cast the curse. Are we even looking for a caster?"

Alice patted Drizella's arm. "Papa says he has it under control. Rumplestiltskin... well, he sees the future but rarely likes what he sees. Best of a bad lot, says he."

"In other words, not good," groaned Drizella. She dropped her head on Alice's shoulder and nearly cried in frustration.

* * *

Best of a bad lot, indeed. Rumplestiltskin ducked back inside, lacking the courage to face the poor fools who trusted him to have a plan to save the world. For once, Hook was busy with his potion business, leaving Rumplestiltskin to brood by himself, sitting at his wheel and watching it go around, back to spinning wool rather than straw or magic.

That had been Hook's suggestion. He had come back from one of his trading trips with a bundle of fleeces and dumped them in bins strategically around the hovel. "You were a spinner before you were a demon. You don't need magic when you have an honorable trade."

Rumplestiltskin had simply sighed and hobbled around the bins, trying to ignore them. But he couldn't stand the waste — the waste of good wool, the waste of his own idleness — and found himself scouring and carding the lot. Alone, as the pirate clearly had no clue. It might as well be magic as far as Hook was concerned. Or maybe that was his point.

Rumplestiltskin grumbled to himself, but having gone that far, could only continue. Why not spin it into something useful? At least it gave him the illusion of productivity. And spinning soothed his mind, helped him think.

The magic had gone from his fingertips, but the sight remained. Out of all the people who could cast his Dark Curse, the three potential casters selected by fate were none of them his own choice. But with all of his magic tied up in the curse, there was no one in the realm who was a match for Gothel, who had grown in power even as Rumplestiltskin weakened. Having absorbed the essence of her real counterpart, Gothel didn't need the curse for herself — but planned to turn it to her own ends.

Neither Alice nor Drizella were powerful enough to defeat Gothel in this realm. If they found their own curse caster, Gothel would simply take the scroll, potentially killing them all in the process. Their only hope was to slip between the cracks of Gothel's intentions and plant the seeds of a better future. To ensure his chosen outcome, he had to say the right things to the right people at the right time. He had to fuel Drizella's paranoia. And wait.

* * *

Drizella could wait no longer.

There really wasn't a plan. The looks Rumplestiltskin sent Hook were not ones of love, so he truly wasn't about to rip out the captain's heart for the Dark Curse. Had he given up? Was he merely trying to placate them until they all _softly and suddenly vanished away?_ Alice's words resonated in Drizella's memory, taking on more ominous overtones with each passing day.

Well, if the Dark One had failed them, and Gothel couldn't be trusted, there were other magical adepts in the realm. And there was also _light_ magic. Perhaps Rumplestiltskin and Gothel could conceive of no other price for such a spell because they only knew dark magic. Light magic worked differently.

As everyone knew, the fairies were the experts on light magic. And as Drizella had learned, Rumplestiltskin loathed the fairies with a deep hatred beyond all reason, meaning he would never go to them for help. Drizella had no such qualms.

It was easy to steal the scroll. The spells protecting it were now controlled by Drizella and Alice, and as Alice trusted her completely, she hadn't locked her defenses against Drizella. Two days before the solstice, Drizella took the scroll and teleported herself to the Infinite Forest, where the sacred grove of the fairies was hidden. Drizella didn't search for it directly, instead applying the magic-detection ointment to her eyes, then casting a divination spell which showed her the traces of magical dust that marked the fairy paths.

The paths converged at a point that tried to lurk beneath her notice, but Drizella kept her target in the corner of her eye and sidled up through the arched trees. One opening spell later and she was inside. The trees, in full summer leaf, towered overhead in a dense, rustling canopy, blotting out moon and stars, but the branches sparkled under a coating of fairy dust.

A junior fairy in a strawberry-red dress fluttered over to intercept Drizella, wand raised. "This is the sacred grove of the fairies. How dare you bring such darkness within its bounds?"

Drizella stood her ground, silently calling up her protection spells. She held up her hands, palms out to indicate her peaceful intentions. "Where else can I bring it? I thought fairies were the most powerful light magicians in the realm."

"That may be so, but it is our custom to seek out those who need our help."

"Well, I don't have time for that nonsense." Drizella looked around the grove. "In any case, this curse is above your grade. Where's Reul Ghorm?"

The fairy gave her a shifty look. "She is... indisposed. Temporarily."

"Indisposed? What's that supposed to mean? When can I see her?"

"I think you need to leave," said the fairy in a stern voice, but Drizella could sense her nervousness.

She advanced a step, causing the fairy to retreat a foot up and back. "The fate of the world is at stake. I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers."

"This is the sacred grove of the fairies," the fairy said indignantly. "Humans don't belong here."

"I'm _already_ here. The sooner you show me to Blue, the sooner I'll leave."

"Quite impossible."

"Why? What _is_ wrong with her? Is she dead?"

"No, of course not!" The fairy's denial was far too quick, and only stoked Drizella's suspicions.

"Of course not," Drizella repeated mockingly. "Then I suggest you take me to whoever is in charge right now."

The fairy dithered until it became clear she had no power to force Drizella away, at which point she capitulated. "Very well. You may speak to Tiger Lily. Come this way."

The fairy led Drizella down another of the winding forest paths. Glints of fairy dust betrayed the enchantment woven into the pebbles marking their way.

"What is this? If you're trying to lead me into a trap, it won't end well for you," warned Drizella.

"We don't do that," huffed the fairy. "It's a spell to speed travel."

"What's your leader doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"She has need of the enchanted—" The fairy cut herself off. "It is not for you to question the wisdom of the elders."

Drizella scoffed. "Avoiding questions looks more like weakness than wisdom, if you ask me."

The fairy ignored her, zipping on ahead through the trees. Drizella rolled her eyes and followed. Tiger Lily was in human form when they found her. She was kneeling at the roots of a tree, her eyes closed and her hands laid on the trunk. Magic glimmered around her and the tree, but Drizella didn't recognize the spell, although the feel of it was vaguely familiar.

"She's a fairy? What's with all the leather?" Drizella eyed Tiger Lily's unusual (for a fairy) outfit. None of the others had worn so many beads or long braids.

"She's been in Neverland," her guide said in a low voice.

Tiger Lily's eyes opened and she turned, rising to meet them. "Dimber Berry. What is the meaning of this intrusion?"

The fairy called Dimber Berry ducked her head to her superior. "My apologies, your reverence, but the young lady was rather insistent. And she has the Dark Curse. I... I thought it better to defer to your judgement as to the importance of her mission."

"Of course it's important," snapped Drizella. "I haven't chased fireflies for my own amusement since I was a toddler."

"Insolent mortal!" Apparently emboldened by the presence of her superior, Dimber Berry hovered closer to Drizella and glared. "If you would seek our counsel, then show some decorum if you please."

Tiger Lily waved a hand at Dimber Berry. "It's no matter." She smiled at Drizella. "It must be a great fear that drives you to us, even knowing our disapproval of your pursuit of dark magic. Speak freely, child."

"My name is Drizella." It was bad enough enduring Gothel's patronizing tone. Drizella refused to take it from the damned fairies as well. Not that she had much choice at the moment, if she wanted their help. She took a deep breath, organizing her thoughts and arranging them as politely as she could. "You must know this world is about to vanish, and all of us with it."

The two fairies murmured in agreement. They clearly did know.

"Well, the Dark One—" Drizella ignored the pinched expressions of distaste on their faces. "—has devised a spell, a curse that can save our lives. The only problem is that the price is..."

"As dark as the curse itself," said Dimber Berry. "A curse that must not be cast."

"Even in a good cause?"

"A selfish cause," countered Dimber Berry. "Reul Ghorm has cautioned us against falling for the machinations of the Dark One. Fate has assigned us our place, and to strive for more would be against all that the fairies stand for."

"So you think we should just buy our coffins and wait for death?" Drizella narrowed her eyes at Dimber Berry, disgusted at the fairy's pious certainty. "Maybe that's good enough for you, but us mortals won't give up without a fight."

"And that is why you need our guidance," began Dimber Berry, but Tiger Lily interrupted her.

"Now, Dimber Berry, no need to be so hasty. Drizella has come to us with the Dark Curse. We should meet her halfway." Tiger Lily favored Drizella with another sickly-sweet smile.

"But your reverence, you said—" The smug look fell from Dimber Berry's face. Had she expected her superior to send Drizella off with a few platitudes?

"Circumstances have changed. We cannot rule out the possibility that even the Dark Curse may be lightened by our magic to avoid the taking of life." Tiger Lily glanced at Drizella. "Isn't that why you came here?"

"Yeah." Drizella studied the senior fairy warily. "Is it possible?"

Tiger Lily nodded slowly. "I believe so. I have come across a powerful force of light that may be our salvation. But I cannot be sure without a closer examination of the curse. It is contained in a scroll?"

"It is."

"You have it with you?"

"I do."

"Then... if you would allow it?" Tiger Lily stretched out a hand in request.

With each successive question, Drizella had found herself more reluctant to answer. Now she closed her fingers around the scroll but didn't draw it from where it had been sealed inside her jacket. "I..."

"Your reverence, permit me." Dimber Berry interposed herself between Drizella and Tiger Lily. "This Drizella is steeped in dark magic. This could be a trap. The Dark One is a devious creature."

"For heaven's sake, I'm not here to hurt anyone. That's the whole point!" Drizella yanked out the scroll and glared at Dimber Berry as she bypassed her and handed the Dark Curse directly to Tiger Lily. Drizella squashed her lingering unease, telling herself that fairies might be annoying little hypocrites, but they wouldn't stoop to theft or dark magic. "Here. Is there anything you can do with that?"

Tiger Lily's smile grew wider as she untied the ribbon binding the scroll and unfurled the parchment. Her eyes shifted as she scanned the spell. After a moment, she rolled it up again. "Yes. Yes, there is much I can do with this." She looked directly at Drizella. "Thank you, child."

Drizella's blood turned to ice. She _knew_ that tone. She _knew_ that magical aura. She grabbed for the scroll, but Tiger Lily whisked it out of reach. Drizella forced herself to state calmly, "I need it back." Silently, she prepared a spell.

"Such a dangerous piece of magic. Safer if it remains in my hands."

Dimber Berry glanced uncertainly at her superior, but said to Drizella, "Yes, better to keep that curse out of human hands. Fairies are much less corruptible."

At that, Tiger Lily smirked at Drizella. "Indeed."

And Drizella _knew_. If she could convince Dimber Berry, then surely the fairy would help... "Fairies may be less corruptible, but you're no fairy, _Mother Gothel_."

"What? Are you mad?" Dimber Berry squawked, completely unhelpfully.

The moment Gothel took her eyes off Drizella to reassure the little fairy, Drizella struck, her counterspell burning Gothel's glamour out in an instant. "No. You're just too blind to realize when your leader has been replaced by a witch!"

Caught out, the ashes of her mask drifting slowly down, Gothel snarled and turned on Drizella. "Sharp enough to cut yourself, brat." She raised a hand, summoning a torrent of magic into the surrounding vegetation. Vines and brush burst into motion, growing and twining themselves around Drizella, tighter and tighter. She fought back with all her strength, but Gothel's power was unstoppable.

"No! Stop this!" Dimber Berry darted in with her wand, aiming blasts of light at Gothel.

Gothel laughed as she wiggled a finger, gathering the force of the blasts into a tightening spiral, then reversing its direction and sending it back. A blaze of golden light impaled Dimber Berry between the eyes. The fairy fell back before she could even cry out, dead before she hit the ground.

Drizella watched in horror, almost glad now that she hadn't had the spare energy to attack Gothel directly. But the vines were well on their way to strangling her. She summoned all her magic for one more burst of power to gasp in a lungful of air in order to shout, "Rumplestiltskin! Dark One, I summon thee!"

 _That_ gave Gothel pause. The witch cursed, raising a hand to fend off potential attacks as she looked around. Then she shrugged, pulling back all her power and loosing one last spell—

The air seemed to explode around Drizella, and everything went black.

When Drizella regained consciousness, the plants had receded to their normal passivity — except for the tree Gothel had been bespelling when they came upon her. The tree was gone, except for a few splinters and stray leaves that had been blasted loose. Drizella picked them off her face and pocketed them for later. Meanwhile, Gothel was definitely gone. Dimber Berry was dead. And revealed now in the earthen cavity where the tree had once been rooted, the corpse of the real (as much as any of them could be said to be real) Tiger Lily.

"Hell." Drizella picked her way around the debris in a stunned daze. Gothel. Gothel had murdered the current head of the fairies (what _had_ happened to Blue?) and now she had stolen the Dark Curse. And... done what to this tree? Why? Drizella cursed her own gullibility in this fiasco. "I can't believe I just handed the scroll to her. Alice is going to kill me."

Well, no, Alice was too kind to kill her. _Rumplestiltskin_ would kill her. Or he would, if he hadn't sunk all his power into the curse. The one that Drizella had given to Gothel. Drizella shook her head. She would kill _herself_ at this rate, out of shame and guilt. If she were the type to let shame or guilt stop her.

"Move on, salvage what you can," she told herself as she plucked the wand from Dimber Berry. "Not as if you'll be needing this anymore."

* * *

"I'm glad you're all right." Alice compressed all the "what the hell were you thinking, you dolt?" into a single look, then wrapped Drizella in a vise-like hug. "Don't do that again!"

"Aye, she's right," said Hook. "Next time talk to us, first. We're all here for you, love."

Rumplestiltskin wasn't as upset as Drizella had expected. "Well, at least you're alive to tell us about it."

"At least two of the fairies aren't." Drizella offered him the wand. "Maybe you can use this. You know, since you're more or less powerless at the moment." She had scared Gothel off with an invocation of the Dark One, but that bluff was unlikely to work a second time.

Rumplestiltskin scowled at the reminder, but he accepted the wand. "Did you happen to pick up any fairy dust? No? Pity."

"No, but I did get a few bits from the tree Gothel was so interested in." She gave him the fragments of wood, bark, and leaves she had collected. "There's some magic in it, but I don't recognize it."

Rumplestiltskin spread the fragments out over his table and muttered over them.

Drizella eyed him in growing suspicion. "So, did you plan for all this? Did you know what was going to happen?"

Rumplestiltskin cackled. "Why would you think that, dearie?"

"You seem remarkably unsurprised about all this."

"Once Gothel was onto the scent of the Dark Curse, it was inevitable that she would acquire it eventually. I fought her off once before, but as I am now?" He sighed and sat back wearily. "Our only recourse would be to destroy it, and... well, if we had done that, all that would be left for us now would be to dig our own graves."

"If you planned all along for her to have the scroll, you could have told me!" Drizella's suspicions hardened into resentment.

"Aye, don't toy with us, Crocodile," Hook chimed in. "Alice and Drizella deserve better."

"You'd rather I handed the scroll gift-wrapped to Gothel? No, no, that would only make her look a hundred times more closely to find the hidden traps in the Dark Curse," said Rumplestiltskin. He pushed the assorted bits of broken tree around with the tip of the wand.

"Wait, what hidden traps?" Drizella thought her own study of the curse had been thorough enough to uncover any traps, and she hadn't found any.

Alice looked at Drizella, then at Rumplestiltskin, then chuckled. "He must mean the traps he's planning to write into it. Now that Gothel has had a chance to look at it, she'll only see what she expects to see..."

Rumplestiltskin clapped his hands in glee. "Clever Alice! Yes, just so, but I will not be the one to do it. That task falls to you, Drizella."

"What? Me?"

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "Now that you can say honestly in the face of any truth spell that you stole the scroll from me — proof that you no longer work for the Dark One. When you go back to your mother..."

"Wait, when I do what? Why?" Drizella's heart sank as she realized that naturally Rumplestiltskin had had a plan all along — a plan that dropped Drizella squarely back into the game she had thought to quit.

Alice gripped her hand, sensing Drizella's dismay. "Once a Crocodile, always a Crocodile? Drizella isn't a chess piece. Remember that."

Rumplestiltskin sighed, unable to meet their eyes. "We're all chess pieces, dearie. Especially Lady Tremaine. Gothel plans to have her cast the curse."

"My mother? How? Whose heart would she use...?" Then Drizella realized. "Anastasia's? But... she wouldn't! All these years, my mother has been consumed with restoring Ana back to life."

"And that's what Gothel's promised her."

"It's a trick. It must be," said Hook.

"There is a way," Rumplestiltskin said slowly. "Dead is dead, but Anastasia isn't quite dead, merely teetering on the edge. To bring her back from the edge, a heart must be sacrificed for her."

"Whose heart? Not..." Drizella gasped as it occurred to her that her mother had always loved Ana more. She clutched at her chest as if to protect it. "Not mine...?"

"What? Never." Alice stiffened, and Drizella could sense stone forming around them. Alice would lock them both in the tower rather than let anyone hurt Drizella, a thought that gave Drizella the courage to fight for their future, whatever Rumplestiltskin had planned.

"No. Not your heart," he said, to Drizella's relief. "Gothel has her own plans. She's found herself a Savior, or at least a potential Savior."

Hook grimaced in mock pain, bringing his hand to his chest in a dramatic gesture. "I'm wounded. Was I not her savior? She's replaced me?"

Rumplestiltskin snorted. "You think highly of yourself, pirate. No, I mean a Savior, not a lock pick on legs. The one born in our realm has gone, but it seems another one was brought here some time before that."

"Brought in? From where? Who is this Savior?" asked Drizella.

Rumplestiltskin hesitated.

"Spill it, Rumplestiltskin," ordered Alice. "If you're sending Drizella into danger, you owe her the truth, and you always pay your debts."

Rumplestiltskin stared down at the wand in his hands, seeming to derive some insight from the scratches that marred its surface. "The Rainbow Crow is a legendary hero — that some call 'phoenix' — born and reborn in flames. At present, it is an unhatched egg. For centuries, that egg was hidden in Neverland."

"Neverland?" Hook frowned. "I remember no such tale in my time there."

"No, Pan made sure of that. He held its guardian confined for all these centuries, until his power failed him," said Rumplestiltskin. An odd look crossed his face, then he shook his head and continued, "He made an attempt to take the power of the egg for himself, but its guardian managed to escape him, crossing to our realm with assistance from a mermaid."

"And where is this guardian now?" asked Drizella.

Rumplestiltskin lifted his gaze to her. "You saw. She's dead. The fairy known as Tiger Lily."

"Tiger Lily?" exclaimed Hook. "The devil you say. She was a fairy?"

"You knew her, Papa?"

"Aye, Starfish." Then Hook made a shamed face. "I'm afraid she's another soul your papa's let down. I'm... I'm not proud of my time in Neverland."

"But you left Pan's service," Alice said loyally.

Drizella nodded in support. Who among them hadn't let someone down or done things they were ashamed of? _I'm so sorry, Ella. I couldn't save you._ And now Gothel wanted to get her claws into Ana. If Drizella had to go back to her mother in order to save Ana, she would. "So, Gothel killed Tiger Lily and stole this magic egg thing. The unborn Savior. And she's planning to, what, bind it somehow to Ana?"

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "It's one of the futures I've seen. The Rainbow Crow reborn in Anastasia's heart, granting her the light magic of a Savior. A Savior already under Gothel's thumb..."

"Meaning she'll control Ana when she wakes?"

"Yes."

"All right. How do we stop Gothel?"

* * *

It wasn't that simple, of course. First Drizella had to get to her mother before Gothel did, to play on Rapunzel's paranoia so that she didn't immediately cast the curse as soon as Gothel offered it to her. Drizella persuaded her mother that they had a common interest in ensuring that Ana did not wake up in the new world as Gothel's puppet, but rather the reverse.

And that was what ultimately brought Lady Tremaine into alignment with her daughter: the prospect of finally gaining the upper hand over the witch who had meddled with her life for so long. At that point, having missed the summer solstice, Drizella had bought a year's delay on the casting of the curse. Meanwhile, Rumplestiltskin and Alice worked out the necessary modifications to be secretly written into the Dark Curse.

"She owes Alice a blood debt," Rumplestiltskin had explained to them before Drizella had left. "That means Gothel can be bound into the curse by her daughter's blood. I didn't do it before, because she would see it and change it, but now that she thinks herself safe... well, Drizella, it's up to you two."

Drizella waited the two weeks he had asked for before returning. As Lady Tremaine still didn't completely trust her, Drizella had to ask for leave to go.

"Off to see that misbegotten vagabond of yours?" A year had not been enough time for Lady Tremaine to get over her anger at losing the chance for a royal son-in-law. The scandalous tale of Drizella and Alice had spread despite Lady Tremaine's efforts to squash it, which only added to her irritation.

Drizella forced herself to meet her mother's sneering face with calm confidence. "Alice is more noble than either of the king's sons you pushed at me, Mother."

"Alice is Gothel's child, you fool. That witch is using her to steal your heart."

"And if Gothel thinks so, then she'll leave us alone, won't she, Mother?" Drizella smiled coldly. "But don't worry. I will always be loyal to my own family."

"See that you are," said her mother, getting in the last word.

It felt like an entirely different world when Drizella was with Alice. She didn't get dizzy from spinning truth and lies until she couldn't tell up from down. Even when Alice went back to Lady Tremaine's house in secret, in order to help Drizella with the modifications to the Dark Curse, her presence was a buffer against the petty cruelties of Lady Tremaine.

"This is my sister Anastasia." Drizella showed Alice the coffin in Lady Tremaine's secret chamber. Ana would have welcomed Alice to the family, thought Drizella. The two would have been kindred spirits — if only Ana were alive. Drizella stroked her sister's hair and sighed. On an impulse, she plucked one free and folded it into a paper box. "She taught me how to fold paper when we were children — we made paper lanterns in remembrance of my mother. And now I'm older than her." She flattened the paper box and stashed it in her clothes. "May she wake again."

Alice patted Ana's frozen hand. "May we meet in the new world."

A year. They had to survive the year until the curse could finally be cast, and they would finally be free, given new lives in a new realm.


	18. Miracles and Saviors

Facilier was gone. Regina could have wept at the irony that the one of them who was mortal had outlasted the other. All that was left of her True Love was a dim spark in the depths of the Firefly Ruby, now mounted in a silver medallion on a chain.

She didn't cry; she wasn't _real_ enough for tears. She gripped the medallion in her hands and hoped he wasn't suffering in whatever stasis held him.

 _It's my last hope_ , he had told her on the last day that he had been able to speak. _I can lock my essence inside the ruby. It buys us a little time..._

 _That doesn't sound very hopeful_ , Regina had said.

 _Pray for a miracle_ , he had replied. _Or find one. I'm afraid I'm all out, my love._

Regina had no miracles to hand, either. In her youth, Rumplestiltskin had dropped into her life like an answer to her prayers, but as she had found out, the Dark One was a poor substitute for divine intervention. But even if he had turned out to be a demon, he had been an accessible demon. And this time he had promised to help, hadn't he?

But it had been nearly two years since Regina had seen Rumplestiltskin, and yet here they all were, still trapped in a dying world. Had he given up? Had the magnitude of the task overwhelmed even the Dark One? Was it actually impossible to escape their unreality?

Regina needed to know. She had made a handful of attempts to track down the imp, even visiting the wreck he had made of his castle. This time, the mirror showed her a run-down peasant hovel, with Rumplestiltskin sitting on a bench outside, playing a game of chess with... Captain Hook, of all people. A remarkably well-preserved Captain Hook, considering the three decades since he had left Neverland's service. A thin curtain of rain dripped off the overhanging roof, making the image hazy.

Regina conjured herself an umbrella, then sent herself to the driest patch of dirt on the path in front of the hovel. "So this is where you've been hiding yourself? I suppose squalor must be an acquired taste..."

"Bloody hell!" Hook jumped to his feet, drawing his sword as he stepped forward, moving as if to defend Rumplestiltskin, which Regina would have found laughable if it wasn't absurd for the man to defend his sworn arch-enemy.

Rumplestiltskin didn't bother to stand. He eyed Regina, a look of resignation on his face. "Ah. Regina. You've discovered my humble abode."

"What do you want?" demanded Hook.

"Nothing from you, pirate," said Regina, brushing the sword away with a magically enhanced gesture of her hand. She advanced on Rumplestiltskin. "You, on the other hand, _you_ promised to save the world."

Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow. "So I did, and so I am. This is me, doing my best to save our world."

"Well, it doesn't look like it from here. It's been almost two years since I gave you the scroll!"

Rumplestiltskin sighed wearily. "Indeed it has. And I put everything I had, and a fair bit that wasn't mine, into that curse. But I'm afraid it's out of my hands now." He spread his hands out, palms up and fingers splayed, to demonstrate just how empty they were.

Everything? Everything except his ability to irritate her, it seemed. Regina clenched her fist, jaws of magical force closing around the infuriating imp and dangling him mid-air. With her other hand, she dipped her umbrella towards the pirate, keeping him at bay with another spell.

Rumplestiltskin grinned wryly at her. He said in a strangled whisper, "Convinced yet, your majesty?"

"Don't call me that," she snarled reflexively, then loosed her spell, dropping Rumplestiltskin into a muddy puddle in an ungainly sprawl.

Captain Hook actually scurried over to check on him.

Rumplestiltskin waved him away. "'m fine." He tottered back to his feet, the pirate handing him a staff before picking up his sword again.

"What the hell are you two doing together, anyway?" Never mind the end of the world, the image _that_ thought conjured up was going to scar her forever.

"We're not 'together'," grumbled Rumplestiltskin, rolling his eyes and making his signature flourish with his free hand. He limped back to the bench and sat down. "The pirate suffers from romantic delusions. But it was a futile pursuit from beginning to end, and even more so under present circumstances."

"We could get the scroll back." Hook gave the imp an injured look. "You never know what the future may bring."

" _You_ may not, but he has the Sight," Regina pointed out. "Wait. Are you saying you _lost_ the Dark Curse?"

"Technically, it was stolen from me," said Rumplestiltskin. He bent down to pick up the chess board and pieces that had been knocked over in Regina's burst of magic.

"Stolen?" Regina looked from one to the other, not sure what to believe. Who could steal from the Dark One? Then again, in his current diminished state... Anger rose in her. No. It was no excuse. "Stolen? STOLEN!?"

Rumplestiltskin cocked his head and peered at her mockingly, the black queen hanging from his fingertips. "Going deaf in our old age, are we? Yes, stolen. Gone. No longer on the premises."

"How the hell could you let that happen? No. Never mind. _Who_ stole it from you?"

"Calm yourself, your majesty. Everything is under control." Rumplestiltskin went back to arranging chess pieces.

Regina hissed, sweeping out a hand to send everything flying in a burst of magic. "Yes, everything will be under control — once I have the Dark Curse again."

"Listen, your majesty, the Crocodile's telling the truth." Hook slid between them, getting his sword in her face again. "Now back off."

Regina didn't bother with the sword this time. She simply took advantage of the pirate's proximity to thrust a hand into his chest and rip out his heart. _Then_ she took a step back. "As you wish." Her fingers tightened around the heart, and Hook doubled over in agony. "Now. Tell me who has the Dark Curse."

Hook groaned, sweat breaking out over his face, where it mingled with drops of rain.

"Put that back." Rumplestiltskin grabbed his stick and limped over to stand next to Hook.

"Or what? You'll hit me with a stick?" sneered Regina.

"His heart won't do you any good. It's poisoned. You can't control him through it, only kill him," said Rumplestiltskin.

"Fine." Regina shoved the heart back into the pirate's chest, along with a paralysis spell. She had had enough of him for one day. She turned to Rumplestiltskin. "But what about you?"

"Me? I'm the Dark One. My heart is no use to you, either." He met her eyes, but she could see it was bravado. She noted how tightly his fingers clutched his stick. He had no defense, not today.

"We'll see." Regina smiled viciously. A moment later, a shriveled lump more like charcoal than a human heart lay in her palm, and Rumplestiltskin cowered on the ground before her, his stick knocked out of reach. How easily he had gone down. For a moment, Regina savored her victory. How many times in the past had she longed to crush him — this creature who had taught her, tormented her, lured her down the darkest path? Then the present caught up with her, and she remembered that she was here to fight for her future. She channeled her magic through her fingers into the heart she held.

Rumplestiltskin gasped, curling into a ball even as spasms wracked his body.

"It seems the Dark One is not immune to pain," Regina said. "Now. Let's try this again. Who has the Dark Curse?" When he didn't answer, she sent another pulse of magic through the heart. This time, she wrung a shout of pain out of him. "Well?"

Rumplestiltskin shut his eyes and turned his head away, tremors still running through his limbs, but he refused to speak.

"Please," said Hook. "Please, don't."

The incongruity of hearing the pirate plead stopped Regina for a moment. She turned to him. "Don't what? Don't bother trying to save the world? Let it burn? Hmm?"

"The curse doesn't need you to cast it. Leave it at that, your majesty."

"Oh, and you're the expert on magic and curses now?"

"I may not be a sorcerer, but I've learned a fair bit in the years since I became land-bound."

Regina rolled her eyes. "Or perhaps you've lost your few remaining wits, if what you've learned is to trust the Dark One!"

"He made a deal with you, did he not? You can trust the Crocodile to keep a deal."

"I know how his deals work. And now there's something he's hiding from me. I need to know what it is." Regina closed her fingers around the heart again, lifting it to eye level. "And I'll squeeze it out of him if I have to."

Rumplestiltskin shuddered, his breathing growing more labored. He had turned pale under the scaly glitter of his inhuman skin. Rain dripped steadily onto him, soaking his clothes and running down his face, and he made no move to wipe it away.

"Your majesty...!"

"It...it's all right, pirate," gasped Rumplestiltskin, rolling over to face Hook, his eyes opening a slit. "She... always... slow learner..."

"Damn you!" Clearly she had been going too easy on the little imp. She lashed the heart with even more power. When he continued to resist, she realized this was taking too long. Now that he had no magic to stop her, she could tamper with his sense of time and place... sending him back to the cell where he had thirty years of despair and darkness. Once the most powerful sorcerer in the realm, he was now reduced to a whimpering lump thrashing in the mud, crying and babbling gibberish. Regina leaned down and wrenched him by the collar to a sitting position. She hissed in his face, "You can end this now. Just tell me who has the Dark Curse."

He opened his eyes, but they were unfocused, lost. "Not.. not... telling..."

Regina flung him back down in disgust. Gods, she hated seeing him this way. Why couldn't he be reasonable for once and just answer her questions? She glared at the heart in her fist and wondered what would happen if she crushed it. Would he die? Was it even possible? She began squeezing. The heart was far harder than any fleshly organ had the right to be.

Rumplestiltskin screamed in helpless agony.

Regina continued squeezing. A normal heart crumbled so easily into a shower of dust. Would the Dark One's heart do the same, or would it break into pieces or shatter like an egg shell?

"Stop! Please! It's Gothel. Gothel has the curse!"

The pirate's shouted confession caught Regina by surprise. She had nearly forgotten his presence. Now she turned to him in disbelief. "What did you say?"

Hook, still frozen by her spell, swallowed once. "I said, Gothel has the curse. Now let him go."

Regina stared a moment longer, then turned back to Rumplestiltskin. She flipped him magically onto his back, then crouched over him, heart in one hand, umbrella in the other. The edge tipped water onto his face, and he blinked wetly up at her. "Is it true? Gothel has the curse?"

He didn't answer, but Regina thought she detected a twitch in the corner of his eye. She straightened, pondering the name. _Gothel? Mother Gothel?_ Regina had avoided her in all her expeditions to Opona with young Henry and Hansel, preferring not to stir up trouble with another magic user. Perhaps she should have paid more attention. She looked down at Rumplestiltskin, nudging him with the tip of her boot. "So you and Gothel know each other?"

No response.

"She wasn't ever one of your students, was she?" Thinking back, Regina had vague memories of Gothel being imprisoned in a tower, back when as a queen, Regina had been looking out for potential allies or enemies.

Rumplestiltskin gave nothing away. He lay there like one half-dead, eyes closed, a scrawny figure under the sodden clothes. He barely twitched when Regina returned his heart to his chest.

She took a step back, shaking her head in dismissal. "I suppose I'll just have to find out for myself." With a swirl of magic, she left the dreary scene behind.

* * *

At first, everything hurt too much to move. Rumplestiltskin couldn't summon the energy to even try. The anticipation of pain was enough to hold him still.

Hook suffered no such constraints. He manhandled Rumplestiltskin back inside the cottage and dumped him onto the bed, then proceeded to strip the sodden outer garments from him, followed by his boots and socks.

"Ugh..." Rumplestiltskin groaned as each movement only brought new aches into sharp relief. "Ah!" Then as Hook wrung out the excess water (right onto the floor, damn him!) Rumplestiltskin was glad that he had recently gone back to his peasant garb — richer and higher quality than he had owned originally, but still woven from wool, which could take a wetting and still keep him warm. Having lost his magic, insulation was once again a factor in his choice of clothing.

"Here." Hook dropped a blanket on him, and when Rumplestiltskin proved too incapacitated to adjust its fit himself, arranged it over him.

Rumplestiltskin didn't move for the next twenty minutes. Hook went so far as to boil water and make him gruel.

 _Damned idiot_ , Rumplestiltskin thought glumly. _Turning softhearted at the worst possible times!_ But done was done, and there was no taking back what had been said. And despite everything, he was touched that anyone cared enough to spare him pain.

That was the one thing he had not accounted for.

It only made him feel worse when Hook sat down next to him and spoon-fed him the watery mix.

He could barely swallow. The aftertaste of the healing potion mixed into the gruel lingered on his tongue. He turned his head slightly, about as much movement as he could take at the moment. "I wish... you hadn't..."

"Aye, you're welcome, Crocodile," said Hook.

"Why... why?" He couldn't finish the question.

Hook didn't meet his eyes. "Gods know we've both known cruelty, from both ends as it were, but... this... I had to stop her, and that was the only way I knew how."

Later.

Rumplestiltskin had dozed off, but to his surprise, Hook was still there when he woke up. Rumplestiltskin gingerly sat up a bit and looked over at him. "She wasn't really trying to break me, you know. She never had the inclination or the patience for it. Taking hearts was a shortcut for her to get what she wanted."

"I don't know. It looked painful." Hook glanced over at him, his usual smirk making a return as he noted Rumplestiltskin's improved condition.

"I thought you wanted to watch me suffer," said Rumplestiltskin without rancor. He understood the impulse well enough, and couldn't say it was undeserved on his part.

"I thought I did. But seeing it... I understand now it was a foolish wish. Inflicting pain for its own sake is... meaningless." The pirate sighed and looked down at his hook. "It betters no one. We've all suffered, haven't we? Enough is enough. It's pointless to seek more."

"I wish you could have delayed your epiphany a little longer. At least until Regina tired of her game and left." Pain was only pain, and could be endured. Rumplestiltskin had known worse, after hobbling himself in order to be allowed home to see his son.

"I was afraid she'd kill you."

"The odds were against it."

"Even so."

"Even if she had, no great loss to the world," said Rumplestiltskin wearily. "I'm finished."

"That's not true." Hook stared down at him earnestly. "Who else will remember to feed Alice's chickens when she's not home?"

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes again, chuckling despite himself. _Home?_ Was this Alice's home, then? Or Hook's? Gods forbid. "They won't survive the curse. Sorry. Not enough power left..."

Hook patted his hand. "Vanishing away isn't the worst fate for a chicken."

Rumplestiltskin sighed. "And as for the rest of us... I can only see fragments, possibilities. Now that you've set Regina on to Gothel..."

"Hey, Gothel can take care of herself. If we're lucky the two witches will be at each others' throats and leave us all alone."

"It's not Gothel I'm worried about."

* * *

Regina knew better than to confront Gothel directly. Years as an adventurer had taught Captain Manzana the value of preparation. She set Smee to gathering information, using the network he had kept up over the years. Meanwhile, she used magical means for her own probes — mirror magic was one of her specialties, after all.

As the Enchanted Kingdom was at peace, Regina had plenty of leisure to pursue her investigation. Young King Henry hadn't forgotten his mother or his grandparents, but as there was nothing he could do about them and the fair Lady Jacinda was right there, he was inevitably diverted onto the path of love rather than vengeance. Regina kept an eye on them, but there was no Cora in Henry's immediate family to derail the romance. Jacinda's family was another matter, from what Regina had heard — all the more reason to keep her true identity hidden. Some of the royal council grumbled, preferring for their king to make a nobler alliance, but Henry made sure the portrait of his common-born father hung prominently in the council chamber.

Two months later, Regina was much better informed. Gothel had given the curse to Lady Tremaine (Jacinda's stepmother!) to cast. The witch (an immortal tree nymph according to Smee's reports) had found some kind of loophole for the price, something stolen from the fairies.

Regina decided to pay them a visit. She found them deeply demoralized, all a-flutter due to the loss of both of their last two leaders. They proved far easier to intimidate than Rumplestiltskin.

"She stole an _egg?_ " Regina squeezed her magic around the tiny pink fairy she had captured for interrogation.

"Ye-yes," squeaked the fairy.

"Tell me about this egg. What's so special about it?"

And so Regina learned about the Rainbow Crow, the phoenix savior. And she knew she needed it.

The Dark Curse could be cast using any ordinary human heart, as long as its owner was loved by someone. Regina's true love could only be restored by a savior's power. Perhaps there were other creatures with that kind of power, but Regina knew she was running out of time to save Facilier. She needed to steal that egg from Gothel. Unfortunately, Gothel had somehow vampirized her counterpart from the other, more _real_ reality, and was thus far more powerful than anyone else in this realm. The mystical egg was kept behind magical locks, hidden in Gothel's garden.

Regina remembered that Henry and Hansel had once broken into her own enchanted castle, a feat that should have been impossible for two non-magical adolescents. Upon further questioning, it turned out that Hansel's sister had somehow acquired a universal key. The only reason Henry and Hansel had been locked up when Regina first met them was that their wrists had been shackled to the wall, rendering Hansel unable to reach the key in his pocket. Regina wanted to kick herself for not finding this out earlier.

"A universal key? Do you have any idea how rare those are? They can't even be forged in this reality. The inherent paradox can only be resolved by a time elemental..." She sighed and cut herself off when she saw the blank expressions on their faces. "Take it from me. It's powerful and rare. I wonder where your sister... well, I guess we'll never know now."

Hansel nodded, a flicker of anger crossing his face at the mention of his sister. "I found it among her possessions that she left behind when she went to study with Gothel. I don't think she trusted the witch not to steal from her."

"Wise of her. You see, Gothel did steal something of mine. As well as something from the fairies."

"What things?" asked Henry. He looked ready to jump on a horse to challenge Gothel at once, though Jacinda and Hansel were clearly more reluctant.

"There's a spell that the Dark One has been working on for the past two years, one vital to all of us in this world," explained Regina. "We're all in danger, even though the danger isn't one most people can see. The Dark One's spell is meant to save us by taking us to another realm..."

"The realm where the Evil Queen took my mother!" Henry burst out. "The Dark One promised to help us with that. So he's done it? Why hasn't he cast the spell yet?"

"Yes, it would have been nice if he had cast it _before_ Gothel got her hands on it," muttered Hansel.

Regina sighed, not sure how much to tell them. "The problem with powerful spells is that the price to cast them is correspondingly high. And with this spell — the so-called Dark Curse — the price isn't one the Dark One is able to pay. That's why he gave it to me." And that was true enough, as far as it went — which was up to the point where the Dark One had been locked up and the Evil Queen defeated three decades ago.

"Can Gothel cast the spell?" Henry asked.

"Does it matter who casts the spell?" was Hansel's question.

"Yes. It very much matters, because whoever casts the spell controls who we become once we are transplanted to the new world. We will have new names and memories, as if we had always lived there."

"Will we remember who we were?" asked Jacinda. She squeezed Henry's hand and glanced at him.

Regina guessed what she was thinking. "Not right away. People may be separated from their loved ones... how cruel that separation is will depend on the good nature of the spell caster."

"Gothel?" asked Henry again.

Regina shook her head. "Gothel can't or won't pay that price, either. No. She plans for Lady Tremaine of Opona to cast the spell for her."

"My stepmother?" Jacinda stared at Regina in shock. "Why her?"

"Because she's ambitious enough to be easily manipulated." Regina chuckled at Jacinda's expression. "I recognize the type. My own mother was the same way. It took me a long time to break free of her plans for me."

Jacinda's face fell. "I wish my sister Drizella could break free."

"I'm sorry," said Regina. "By all reports, Drizella is back under Lady Tremaine's thumb and likely to stay there."

"If I could go to Opona... meet her in secret... Maybe Drizzy would be willing to help us."

"No. That's far too dangerous. She thinks you're dead, remember?"

"But if I tell her the truth..."

"And what if in a moment of anger, she tells her mother?"

"Drizella wouldn't do that!" insisted Jacinda.

"Are you certain?" Regina remembered what she herself had been like as the Evil Queen. Love didn't always triumph over anger or ambition, at least in the short term. Regrets wouldn't save them from a betrayal. Interestingly, Hansel took Regina's side, though Henry naturally supported Jacinda.

"Drizella was also a student of Gothel," Hansel reminded them. "Who knows where her true loyalties lie?"

"Indeed."

In the end, they all agreed to a clandestine raid on Gothel's garden, timed for the winter solstice, when she would be weakest.

"She's a tree nymph, and it's only her strength of will that keeps her powers from going dormant in the winter. But that's only half the problem. We have to keep possession of the scroll until we can cast the spell — which must be at the summer solstice."

Regina would have preferred to go alone, but Hansel wouldn't give up the key unless she agreed to take them all. She could have stolen the key, but didn't want to burn her bridges until she had to. One of them (Henry, she couldn't help thinking) might be needed to cast the Dark Curse. It would be a cruel trick to play on them, but Regina had learned from the Dark One himself. One sacrifice to save a world — it was worth it, she told herself, and it was only fair that the grandchild of the girl who had ruined Regina's life be the one to pay. As for Jacinda, she had walked away from death once already, which was more chances than Daniel had been given.

They slipped in underneath Gothel's wards like a slow trickle of melting ice under a gate. Regina's divination led her to the hidden vault buried under the roots of the tree at the heart of the garden. Hansel's key opened the locks. Among the clutter of magical trinkets, scrolls, crystals, and dried seed pods, Regina found the egg — the Rainbow Crow — nestled in a velvet box. But none of the scrolls was the one that held the Dark Curse.

"It's not here!" Regina spoke without thinking. Three pairs of eyes looked at her in shock. She added quickly, "We can't stay. This may be a trap."

Shock turned to fear. Hansel was already shooing the others towards the exit. "Move!"

Regina shut the vault and followed. But before the door snapped shut, she surreptitiously translocated the egg into her own pocket. She had warded their inn rooms against intrusion and spying, but Regina doubted it would hold up to a direct attack. She could only hope their intrusion had gone unnoticed. She kept her thoughts to herself; she had what she had truly come for.

"If the scroll isn't in her vault, then where is it?" asked Henry.

"Lady Tremaine," guessed Hansel.

Regina nodded. "Most likely. She and Gothel are working together; that implies a measure of trust."

"Then we have to search her house." Henry looked at Jacinda. "I know you never wanted to go back there. If you..."

Jacinda caught his hand and forced a smile. "It's all right, Henry. I'm the only one who knows the place. I know where my stepmother puts things; I had to clean it all, once upon a time."

"Do we go tonight?" asked Hansel.

Regina shook her head, feigning weariness. "Not yet. I need a few hours to rest before I'm ready to tackle Lady Tremaine's manor."

"Of course, Captain Manzana," said Henry. He gestured to Hansel and Jacinda. "We'll wait next door." They left for the other room.

Regina waited a full minute to be sure they were gone, then reinforced the defensive wards on her room. Then she sat down at the table, setting out first the magical egg, and then, next to it, the medallion with the Firefly Ruby.

 _I've found our miracle, my love._ Joy bubbled up in her throat. _A Savior... a chance for you to be reborn._

Regina took a moment to study the egg and the powerful magical potential hidden inside the shell. She found that its magic was not so different in nature from that contained in a heart, and it could be channeled in much the same way. She picked up the medallion in her right hand and prayed.

 _A miracle._

Light spun in a dazzling ball of radiance, a miniature sun hanging in the middle of the dingy inn room. The light flickered, streaked through with shadows that took on form and color.

"Regina." First came the voice, soft and expressive, that made her name an endearment. Then came the shape of the man, flesh and blood and clothed in all the splendor her memories could summon. As the light faded, he gained substance.

"Facilier!" Amidst the laughter and the tears and an embrace that she hoped would never end, Regina felt _real_ , this was _real_ , he was, and she was, and she would never let go of that. Happiness endured for all of three full breaths and half of another — a sharp intake, because...

The wards shattered in a deafening thunderclap. A lightning flash blinded Regina, left her numb, all her edges tingling, and she understood that she...

... _was not real. Was nothing. Was a paper-thin fiction._

"Accursed beast." It was Gothel, Gothel who held Facilier in her sorcerous grip (how?) and pierced them with the knowledge of their unreality. "Scurrying thief... ruiner as your kind ruin all that is pure with your filth, your darkness."

No. No, it was Gothel who ruined everything. Regina tried to shout back at her, to force her to release Facilier, but her tongue had turned to a dead weight in her mouth, words withering on the vine. She could only watch as Gothel commanded Facilier to kneel before her — and he obeyed.

 _The egg. It was a trap, after all._ Regina cursed her own recklessness. _Take it back. I take it back!_ She couldn't undo what she had done, couldn't let her true love die in front of her, but she could do one thing. She still held the Firefly Ruby in her hand. She could send _him_ back.

A trap, but of a different kind. Regina concentrated, drawing on all of her magic to wrap Facilier in the remnants of his stasis spell. Flesh and blood dissolved again into motes of light and shadow as Regina captured his essence and trapped it once again into the Firefly Ruby. This time, she made sure there would be no escape until the end of the world.

Gothel knew what she had done, of course she must, but speed could trump power, and it was too late to reverse the spell. "It matters not. He is marked for my service, in this realm or the next. As for you, you shall meddle no more in my affairs." She lifted her hands, sending a stream of magic to envelop Regina, blasting her past walls and buildings and into the freezing night air.

She tumbled, falling, falling...

 _Is this how it ends?_

...and she was down. Earth thawed, gave way beneath her as the spell took her, rooting her to the ground. Cloth and skin became bark, and her face was lost in sworls of wood. A tree grew where none had grown before, a red gem concealed under a burl that could once have been a clenched fist.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Don't ask me where Gretel found a sonic screwdriver! Maybe the Doctor lost one when he was in the Land of Fiction.


	19. The Magician (Follow the Lady)

_The Magician tarot card, numbered the first of the Major Arcana, depicts a man standing before a table spread with the tools of his trade (whether mountebank or true magus) — one for each of the four suits in the deck. He has one hand raised towards heaven and one pointing to the earth. You have a plan, you have a goal — now it's time to enact them._

* * *

The entire building shook as if it would fly apart.

Hansel, who was standing closest to the door, flung it open. Grabbing his spear, he hurried to Captain Manzana's room, ignoring the other doors opening up and down the hallway. The captain's door remained closed, which was suspicious enough that Hansel kicked it open. "Captain...?"

The only reply was an icy draft.

Hansel tested the threshold with the tip of the spear. When no magic struck it down, he advanced inside. The room was in shambles, the exterior wall blasted open, the night gaping beyond. Henry and Jacinda followed him inside. The three of them peered down to see a shadowy figure moving away from the tree growing just outside the room. A tree? Had that been there before?

"Captain Manzana?" Henry called down at the figure.

She lifted her head, distant lanterns dimly illuminating her face. It wasn't the captain. "I'm afraid Captain Manzana has betrayed you."

"What? She wouldn't!" said Henry.

The woman chuckled. "Oh, but she has. She used you to get into my garden, but did you find what you sought?" When no one answered her, she continued, "No. I didn't think so. But nevertheless she stole from me."

"What evidence have you?" demanded Henry. "If you accuse her, she has the right to a hearing and present a defense."

"You are children," said the woman. "You have no power to discern truth from lies, nor any power to bring her to justice."

"I'm not a child! I'm—" began Henry indignantly, but Hansel grabbed his arm before he could blurt out his name and station.

"Are you the one called 'Mother Gothel', then?" asked Jacinda. "What exactly are you accusing Captain Manzana of stealing?"

The woman nodded, acknowledging the name, then said, "It was an item vital to the future of us all, but her selfishness has destroyed that avenue of hope."

"If that's true, then we'll make her give it back." Hansel peered down, looking for any sign of the captain. Clearly there had been some kind of magical battle.

Gothel laughed darkly. "Oh, it's far too late for that. Her darkness has tainted that hope beyond recovery. But you need not concern yourselves. I have planted the seed of her redemption. Whether it bears fruit or not is up to her." Gothel lifted a hand, then vanished in a swirl of smoke.

Henry cursed, then ran for the stairs. Hansel and Jacinda followed. A moment later, they were searching the yard and the inn for the missing captain. The other bystanders brought out by the commotion mostly went back inside, while the innkeeper seemed more worried about the damage to the building than anything else.

"Do you think she's dead?" Henry asked when their search came up empty.

"No." Hansel stared at the tree. He had brushed past it a few times earlier, and found it oddly warm. Now it had taken on the chill of the surrounding air, but he was struck by its positioning. And he was sure it hadn't been there before. "I think... this..."

"Gothel turned the captain into a _tree?_ " Jacinda said what Hansel was thinking.

He gave her a look. However much he wanted to find fault with her, he had to admit she was no dullard. "Maybe. We can ask the innkeeper..."

And as the man confirmed, the tree was indeed new, despite being solidly rooted to the ground and many decades old, though twisted and stunted in its growth.

Henry touched the bark warily. "Captain Manzana?" He whispered the question as if he would look less foolish talking to a tree if he kept his voice down.

The tree made no answer.

"I think it _is_ her," said Hansel. The more he looked at the tree, the more it reminded him of Captain Manzana.

"What should we do?" wondered Henry. "She was working for us, whether she truly stole from Gothel or not."

"Doesn't your family have allies among the fairies?" suggested Jacinda.

Henry nodded. "But... no one's heard from the Blue Fairy since my grandparents died, and the others have never been as close to us."

Hansel bit his lip. That sorceress still owed him a favor — Lady Tremaine's daughter and Jacinda's sister. Was Captain Manzana worth calling in the favor for? "What if the captain really is a thief, and she's just been spinning us a fine tale to get hold of my sister's universal key?"

"I owe her a hearing at least. She's served us well for the past two years, and don't forget that she saved our lives before that, when she didn't have to," said Henry. "It would be an act of dishonor to abandon her without doing everything we can to save her."

Hansel sighed. Henry was honorable to a fault, and Hansel loved him for it. Henry would never forgive Hansel for holding back. He said reluctantly, "I may have an idea..."

* * *

"One of Gothel's spells," said the sorceress. She exchanged a glance with her companion. "She used it on Mother once."

It was late morning now. Hansel had ridden in the night to Lady Tremaine's manor, going by the servant's door to send a discreet message to Drizella. She had come as requested, but not alone. Hansel suspected the other woman, Alice, of being another witch, but so far she had displayed no magic. Hansel kept half an eye on her, not trusting her off-kilter smile and mad jabber.

"Can you break it?" asked Henry. Next to him, Jacinda stared furtively at Drizella. Hansel caught her at it and frowned at her. It was too much of a risk, especially in the presence of a stranger. "The fate of the world may be at stake."

"No. Gothel is too powerful. That spell can only be broken from within. It took my mother six years." Drizella shrugged. "I'm sorry."

She didn't look sorry at all. Hansel's fingers tightened around his spear as he glared at Drizella. "Then you still owe me the favor!"

"Hansel, don't..." whispered Jacinda. He hadn't bothered to explain to either Henry or Jacinda how Drizella had come to owe him a favor, and his hostility clearly dismayed her now.

"I suppose so," agreed Drizella in a bored tone. "Don't waste it next time."

Alice circled around them, a mysterious smile on her face as she studied the trio from the Enchanted Forest. She said in a light sing-song, "Curiouser and curiouser... I smell secrets, secrets in the air. Secrets of trees, and secrets of blood." She winked at Hansel. "We've met before, remember?"

And when she closed her fingers around the metal tip of the spear, Hansel gasped, remembering. "You! You did something, that day. You _are_ a witch."

He saw in his mind's eye the spear sliding into her torso, then the spell that turned them to stone, nearly taking him with them. He jerked the spear free and backed away.

"What is she talking about?" asked Henry. "When did you meet?"

"On the road," said Alice. She went back to stand by Drizella, draping an arm easily around her friend's shoulders.

"She's a witch, and a powerful one," stated Hansel. "Flesh to stone, stone to flesh... what about wood?"

Alice shook her head. "Drizella's right. Gothel is too powerful."

"Really? Then why did you come out here? To taunt us?" Hansel felt Henry lay a calming hand on his arm and clamped his mouth shut.

Drizella said stiffly, "Let's not go stirring up old quarrels. It won't get us anywhere. What we need to know is what happened between Gothel and your Captain Manzana. What did you steal from Gothel's garden? And why?"

To Hansel's disgust, Jacinda proved far too eager to trust in her half-sister's goodwill, and where Jacinda went, Henry followed, no matter how many secrets were spilled. Between them, they told Drizella and Alice everything, from the existence of another realm and its Evil Queen, to their dealings with the Dark One and Captain Manzana, and the quest that brought them here today. They told of Gothel's accusations.

Drizella and Alice exchanged more knowing looks, that grew darker as Jacinda reached the end of the tale.

"Can't you help us?" Jacinda begged.

Hansel moved up on her left (Henry was of course on her right side) and gave her a warning nudge. He could just see how much she wanted to tell her sister the rest of it, but this was no time for a family reunion.

"Oh, this is bad, it's very bad," said Alice. "If your captain took..." Alice sighed and shook her head. "You know what they say: all the king's horses and all the king's men..."

Drizella frowned. "We'll just have to find someone to do it the other way."

"What other way?" Hansel asked, trying to follow their line of thought and failing. "Are you talking about the Dark One's spell? Do you have the scroll?"

Alice and Drizella both turned to Hansel, then included Henry and Jacinda in what seemed a pitying gaze. Alice spoke first. "Better you don't get involved. Turn around. Go home. This isn't your story."

Drizella nodded. "She's right. Forget you ever heard of that scroll." She lifted a hand.

"Wait!" Jacinda called out with such desperation that Drizella paused mid-spell. "Wait. Drizzy, she's wrong. We're all in the same story."

Drizella's eyes widened. "You... what... what did you call me?"

Jacinda's hand went to the edge of her face, and before Hansel could stop her, she tore off the skin mask that disguised her. "Drizzy, it's me, Ella. I didn't die. Gods, I'm sorry... they were going to kill me..." She trailed off, swallowing heavily. Hansel could see the tremor in her hand as she gripped the mask.

Drizella stared at Jacinda in astonishment. "Ella? _Ella?_ "

The reunion went about as well as could be expected, and better than it might have due to the looming threat of doomsday.

Hansel listened to Jacinda's explanations, distancing himself even as Henry took her hand in his, ready to support her no matter what happened. Hansel sighed inwardly and assigned himself to stand guard, as he had done so many times that it was near reflex. He reminded himself that he had no claim on Henry's heart, and shifted his focus forcibly away from the besotted pair, ignoring his own pain.

And then everything went to hell.

Had he forgotten that they were witches? Had he let blood ties blind him to danger?

All he remembered later was the gryphon. He would have taken it for a dream, except that Henry and Jacinda also remembered a gryphon... and Captain Manzana was missing. There were no gryphons in the Enchanted Forest — yet a gryphon had struck her down out of a clear sky, in... in the middle of the castle grounds? And flown away with her corpse?

Hansel remembered the sound of giant wings, a graceful leap into the sky, and a vanishing silhouette.

* * *

"Why a gryphon?" Drizella asked Alice once they were back in Opona. They were in the same inn yard where Gothel had turned the former Evil Queen into a tree. They wanted the chance to examine her more closely.

"Keeper of secrets," said Alice. She gestured, and the shadow of giant wings spread to cover them under a concealment spell. Then she gave Drizella an unhappy look. "Why do it at all?"

"It's safer if they don't get involved. Ella doesn't have magic. I'm trying to protect her," said Drizella, knowing it was a rationalization. "That Henry of hers seems like the kind of heroic idiot who would offer himself up as a sacrifice if it would save her, much less the whole world. And her life has been horrifying enough without having to crush the heart of the person she loves the most."

"Not you, then."

Drizella snorted. "Sisterly love is overrated."

"You're just angry at her for keeping secrets, so now you want to do the same to her."

"She made me think she was dead!"

"Well, you made her think you're Lady Tremaine's dutiful daughter. She was probably afraid of _her_ finding out."

Drizella sighed. "I suppose I can't blame Ella for that."

"Still, it doesn't seem right to take someone's memories away."

"Everyone will forget everything once the curse is cast, and when it's broken, everyone will remember everything," said Drizella. It had been a dark act, of course it had, but it was for their own good. Gothel was ruthless. Look what she had done to the woman who had once been the most-feared sorceress in the land. Drizella ran a gloved hand along the bark of the tree. It felt stuffed full of magic. "Do you think the captain really stole the egg?"

Alice squinted up into the branches. "Yes. Yes, I think so. I could feel it. A hatching of something bright, transmuted by something dark, into something that reeks of graveyard dust."

"So it's true. Mother won't be able to use it for Ana."

Alice shook her head. "As well ask one egg to hatch into two chickens. You'll have to find some other way — for Ana, and for the curse."

Drizella caught Alice by the hands, needing her to understand. "Alice, there's only one other way for the curse. You know what that is."

Alice shook her head wildly. "No. Don't ask me to do it... I won't. I can't. You do it. Take my heart—"

Drizella stopped her. "No. I can't, either. But I was thinking about it..." She explained her idea of finding a volunteer, someone already close to death and willing to make that sacrifice.

Alice was unhappy with the idea, but she saw no better alternative, either. "A little darkness to save the light that remains in this world... Well, we have six months to find someone willing to extinguish their light for us all."

Drizella nodded. "You look. I have to stay with Mother, convince her to give up the scroll to me."

Lady Tremaine had placed a deadlock spell on the curse scroll. Unlike the Dark One, she was willing to let the curse be destroyed rather than lose possession of it. It didn't matter how powerful the thief was. The deadlock meant that even the death of the owner would trigger the destruction of the scroll, as would any attempt to tamper with the spell.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin had lost whatever tenuous grasp he had on the threads of fate. The future was a mosaic of contradictory fragments. Without the Dark One's power, he could no longer control how the pieces fit together. The picture in his mind shattered, changed. One miscalculation and he was out of the game. So were Regina and Facilier, according to Alice.

Rumplestiltskin was darkly amused to find that bit of the puzzle slotted into place. "A tree? I suppose that is Gothel's speciality. I was always partial to snails."

Alice made a face. "Small and easily crushed? I put a concealment on Regina. I'd hate to think of her chopped up for firewood."

Hook snorted. "Aye, that would be an ignominious end for the Evil Queen."

"Mmm." Rumplestiltskin supposed he should be grateful for what he still had — which included a fairy's wand and a tiny store of power siphoned from fragments scavenged from a magical tree. He had them laid out on his workbench now, as he pondered how to best make use of this little bit of magic. As he watched Alice smile at her father from across the room and behind a hanging blanket, an idea came to him.

A month later, Rumplestiltskin handed a small white figurine, seemingly crafted out of polished stone, to Hook. It was all that was left of the wand.

"What is this?" Hook turned it this way and that, admiring the detail.

"A white elephant," explained Rumplestiltskin. "Are you familiar with the expression? A name we give to things which have outlived their useful lives, and yet persist. And I find that personally quite moving."

Hook frowned at Rumplestiltskin. "What does it do?"

"It grants the bearer a small measure of influence over the Dark Curse, preserving what is important to them. So that, for example, a father and daughter may still be family amidst the chaos of our cursed lives."

Hook gave him a long look. "You're doing this for me?"

Rumplestiltskin giggled. "No, I'm doing it for her."

Trust the pirate to kick the shards of the future loose again: Hook in turn gave the elephant to Alice, saying later, "They're young. They need each other more than they need us."

"True love will find itself," Rumplestiltskin said, arguing more out of habit than with any real conviction.

"But this may lessen their pain and give them more time together."

"Let us hope so."

* * *

"You must cast the curse," said Lady Tremaine. Drizella had reported the events at the inn to her, and the loss of the vital element that was meant to restore Anastasia once her heart was crushed.

"What? Mother, I can't! I can't kill..." Drizella choked on the words, appalled at her mother's latest demand.

"You can." Lady Tremaine eyed Drizella, her mouth twisted in disapproval. "You already killed one of Gothel's little coven. You can do it again."

"Not her. Not Alice."

"We have no choice," said Lady Tremaine firmly.

"Yes, we do. Alice is looking—"

"For a stranger? No, Drizella, we can't allow a stranger that much control over our lives. The curse must stay within our family. You know your duty."

"Then you cast it!" Drizella couldn't endure her mother's hypocrisy any more. "You crush my sister's heart, if you're so determined to control the curse."

"How dare you." Lady Tremaine loomed, radiating authority.

"It's the obvious choice." Drizella shrank back, but kept her voice steady. She didn't want Ana dead, but when it came down to it, Ana wasn't exactly alive now, and they had little hope of reviving her (not without killing Ella, and Drizella wasn't about to suggest that!) "Ana died years ago. Alice is very much alive. I won't kill her so you can keep obsessing over an illusion. I don't think even Ana would want that!"

"Anastasia will live again." Lady Tremaine caught Drizella by the wrist. "You have a few more months with your trollop. Then you'll do what must be done. It is your duty."

"I've always done my duty, but this." Drizella fought back tears. "How can you ask this of me?"

Lady Tremaine sighed, her face softening. "You think I'm cruel, that I don't love you. You're wrong. I want what's best for this family. It's the world that is cruel, a world where the weak are devoured by the strong. Once you get past your infatuation, you'll see that."

"Alice _is_ family." Drizella pulled away from her mother's grasp. "And we don't have to do it this way. We can find someone willing to pay the price. If we compensate them for it, there's no reason they can't make our new lives good."

Lady Tremaine's eyes turned hard again. "Don't be naive, child. People can't be trusted. If we give up control of the curse, we will suffer for it."

* * *

"We need to give the elephant to my mother," Drizella said after Alice had explained its magical properties.

Alice's fingers closed around the talisman in instinctive refusal. "What? No. Why?"

Drizella sighed, wrapping her own hand around Alice's. "To trade for the scroll. She won't give it up because she's afraid of losing control, and she won't cast it herself because she won't give up hope..."

"She still thinks she can save your sister?"

Drizella nodded. "She wants me to cast the curse."

"But I've found someone. His wife is dying of a wasting disease. There's no cure, but we can make sure she survives long enough, in as much comfort as possible... they agreed to make the sacrifice." Seeing Drizella's expression, Alice added, "They're good people. Is your mother that untrusting?"

"She is. That's why we have to give her the elephant. That way she'll still have some control over her fate under the curse. She'd rather die than be at the mercy of someone like Gothel again. Sorry."

Lady Tremaine didn't trust anyone, but Alice trusted Drizella enough to hand over the elephant talisman. With that magic added to the balance, self-interest won out over mistrust and Lady Tremaine let her daughter take the curse scroll.

Alice took Drizella to see the family she had found to cast the curse. They had a small farm in southern Opona, an elderly couple with a grown son and his three children all living under the same roof. The old woman accepted her impending death with an earthy stoicism. Her family followed her lead, while being grateful for the boost to their wealth that Drizella offered them — a last minute codicil to the curse that guaranteed their fortunes in the new realm.

"I've little need for it, to be honest," said the old man, Nigel. "I expect it won't be long before I join Mari in the underworld."

"Thank you for your sacrifice," said Drizella. "The world will owe you a great debt."

Alice held her tongue this time, having already said everything when she first met the family. It was a strange thing, to know precisely when death would come, and to count down the days in wait. Still, count down the days they did. Some of them they spent at their own house, some with the curse caster's family, and a few at Lady Tremaine's house.

The count came to an end at last. There was little sleep on the night before the summer solstice. Alice and Drizella were up at dawn, as were Nigel and Mari and their family. Everyone stared at each other in awkward silence. The curse only had to be cast before sunset, which gave them one last day to be together. But Alice wanted to be with her father when the curse took them, and Drizella wouldn't leave her, so they had agreed to hand over the scroll after making the preparations for the casting in the morning.

The cauldron with the other ingredients. Mari's heart. One last run through the procedure with the scroll with Nigel.

Nigel held his wife's heart in his hand, his expression a mixture of disbelief and horror.

Mari, too weak to walk, looked over at him from her wooden bier which their son had made for her. "It's all right, love. I'm ready."

"I don't know if I can," whispered Nigel.

"For Callum. For his children. And their future... you must." Mari dropped her head again, while her son and his children stood solemnly around her.

Nigel bowed his head.

Drizella cleared her throat, then proffered the scroll to the old man. "Here. You know what to do."

Nigel's fingers closed around the scroll. And then his entire stance _shifted_ , and oh, this was bad. This was very bad.

Alice cried out in wordless horror, but it was too late.

"Oh yes, I know what to do." Nigel (not Nigel!) smiled. His other hand closed around Mari's heart and crushed it. Then his form blurred, became the familiar shape of Gothel before vanishing in a plume of smoke.

"Gothel!" Drizella shot out a bolt of magical lightning at the witch, but it flew through only empty space, scorching the wall of the barn beyond.

Mari breathed her last without even a warning gasp. Her son and grandchildren stared at Alice and Drizella in shock and betrayal.

Alice looked around wildly. "No time! We have to find her." She grabbed Drizella by the arm and threw herself into the space between, following Gothel's magical trail. They were linked by blood; it was as easy as following her own nose.

"No, stop!" Drizella pried at Alice's fingers. "It could be a..."

And then they materialized, a net sweeping them both up to swing helplessly midair.

"...trap."


	20. The Wheel

_The Wheel of Fortune is numbered tenth of the Major Arcana. It carries gods and mortals, binds all elements. The wheel turns, and fortunes rise and fall. We are all at the mercy of the whim of fate._

* * *

"They're late." Hook paced back and forth under the shadow of the house, marking the time with shots of rum. Six empty glasses already sat on the bench. He took a clean glass from the shelf above and poured another shot. As he had said the night before, he didn't want to be sober when the darkest of dark curses rolled over them.

"Yes, thank you, Captain Obvious," muttered Rumplestiltskin, but his own anxiety betrayed itself in the restless twitch of his fingertips. "We still have time. It _is_ the longest day."

Hook lifted his glass and gave Rumplestiltskin a look. "Come on, Crocodile. Bottoms up!"

Rumplestiltskin, who only had one glass beside him along with a pitcher of water, sighed and refilled his glass. Unlike Hook, he intended to keep as much of his mind intact through the curse as he could. "Cheers."

"What cheer you animals find in poisoning even yourselves, I will never understand." A woman stepped out of the air into the sunlit meadow, her smile promising nothing good.

"Gothel," growled Hook. He threw his empty glass aside and drew his sword, lunging at the witch.

Rumplestiltskin didn't even have time to chide Hook on the futility of his attack before the man was flung against the wall, hitting with a sharp thud before he slid unconscious to the ground. He shoved down his own dread, carefully placing his own glass on the bench before he spoke. "To what do I owe the dubious pleasure of this visit?"

Gothel's smile widened. "I wanted you to appreciate the full depths of your failure."

No. Rumplestiltskin looked away, unable to bear the triumph in her eyes. He _knew_. His voice was barely a whisper as all his plans crumbled before him. "You have the Dark Curse."

"I will have everything," gloated the witch. "Your darkness destroyed my daughter. Now you shall know my loss as if it were your own..."

Rumplestiltskin couldn't hold back his gasp. _Henry? She can't know..._

"Your son may be dead, but he had a son. The protector you sent to him was as selfish and treacherous as all your kind. She pays the price and he is unprotected."

Rumplestiltskin flinched. His heart clenched painfully, and he clutched at his chest, forcing himself not to collapse. Fate closed in on them all, and he could do nothing. All their efforts to change that course had failed, and they were out of time.

Gothel's smirk was all too knowing. "Good bye, Dark One. In the new world, you, too, shall be replanted in a garden of my design." She lifted a hand flicked her fingers at him. A dart of sorcery flew out faster than he could react and struck him between the eyes.

As dark visions blossomed in his mind, her shape shimmered and vanished in a swirl of smoke.

* * *

The net was enchanted to resist magic. It was woven of some kind of vine, grown together rather than simply knotted. Drizella recognized the flavor of Gothel's power running through the supernatural growth.

"Do you think she killed him?" Alice asked. Drizella couldn't see her at all; the two of them were wedged into the net back to back, their combined weight pulling the vines tighter as they twisted slowly in the air.

"Who?" Drizella rolled her face sideways, peering up at the dark canopy of the tree above them. The net hung from a massive branch high off the ground. They must be in a forest, then, for the trees to shoot upwards rather than outwards. She wriggled her hand where it was trapped against her side, trying to reach the dagger in her boot.

"Nigel."

The curse caster Alice had found — and befriended. Drizella's breath went out in an unhappy sigh. Then, "Probably. I'm sorry."

"We have to find her."

"Alice..."

"We can't let her do this to people."

"I know. But first we have to get out of this net. Can you reach your magic?"

"No. Drizella, I can't do it again either. I can't just find another poor innocent to cast a curse for us..."

"We can worry about that later. Can you reach the dagger in my boot?"

"I don't think we have 'later'! This world is fraying at the edges. Can't you feel it? It won't last another year." The conviction in Alice's words chilled Drizella to the bone.

"All right. Then we have to do this today." Drizella shut her eyes, trying not to panic.

"We have to get the curse back. You'll cast it. Promise me."

"Alice..." Drizella wanted to refuse, but what if it came down to that in the end? She changed what she was going to say to, "We don't even know if she'll give the scroll to us."

She felt Alice go limp against her back, all the fight gone out of her. "Oh. Oh, no. It's no good, then."

Drizella longed to hold her tight and reassure her, or even better, for Alice to hold _her_ and tell her that everything would be all right. But she doubted it was true, no matter which of them said it, so she breathed carefully until she could speak without her voice shaking. "Alice. Let's get out of this net."

After a while, Alice began moving again. "You know, I think I _can_ reach your boot..."

* * *

As the king's closest friend, Hansel had become much in demand among those petitioners who wished to leverage his influence with Henry. They came in all flavors, from foreigners to local townies, from nobles to merchants to craftsmen to beggars. Rarely did they actually want to talk to Hansel himself.

Ironic, he thought, when the truth was that he was losing Henry, day by day. All Henry could see now was Jacinda. Had he forgotten his mother? Had he forgotten his grandparents? Had Jacinda abandoned her people? Instead they clung only to each other, closing their eyes to their pasts and dreaming of an impossible future.

A future where Hansel was shunted to the shadows, a dark reminder of pain that they wished forgotten. A future where Hansel's love could never be acknowledged, never be returned. No matter how loyally he served, he would only ever be the king's advisor behind the throne. What he was in his heart, was not wanted. Not for him the soft touches and sweet embraces, the nights of shared passion.

But today, a visitor came for Hansel, not for Henry. She was clad humbly, but Hansel could sense the power behind the facade. _A witch_.

She stood before his desk and curtsied.

Hansel tensed in his seat, fighting an urge to stand. "State your business."

"You don't remember me, do you?" She smiled enigmatically.

His hackles rose at the sight of that smile, but Hansel couldn't say why. He clenched his fists to keep from reaching for a weapon. "Should I?"

"We met in Opona."

"Did we?"

"You came on a quest to save the world, but returned empty-handed." The woman waited, but when Hansel said nothing, she placed a rolled-up scroll on his desk. "This is what you sought. I give it to you."

Hansel stared down at the scroll, but didn't move to take it. Why couldn't he remember? Her words jarred against his memories. She was familiar. He did know her. He didn't. "What is this?"

"Your salvation. Everyone's salvation. Of course, salvation is never that easy. There is a price." The woman slid a wooden jewelry box next to the scroll. It was carved with innocuous images of leaves and flowers, but Hansel shuddered, sensing malevolence in the way the woman's fingers lingered on the lid, trailing away in silent invitation. "I have obtained it for you."

 _Salvation?_ Was the world in danger? His thoughts blurred, and it was as if his innards had turned to ice. Danger. Escape to another realm. Henry's mother. When had his memories turned so slippery? Why hadn't he noticed? "What... what do you mean, 'salvation'?"

"Oh dear. You really have forgotten." The woman circled around the desk. "Permit me..."

Hansel jumped up from his chair, and this time he did grab the spear off the rack behind his desk. "Stay back!" He thought about calling for the guard outside his door, but that nagging familiarity stopped him. What if she was telling the truth?

The woman smiled again, lifting her hands as she took a step back. "As you wish. It's simpler if you permit my touch, but my magic is not limited by distance."

"What magic?"

"Someone has tampered with your memories. I can restore them for you."

Before he could think better of it, Hansel nodded. "Do it."

She did. She was _Gothel_. The witch who had taken Gretel as a student and then sent her to her death. The witch who had defeated Captain Manzana.

 _Captain Manzana._ The memories came flooding back.

 _We're all in danger... The Dark One's spell is meant to save us by taking us to another realm._

Hansel tapped the scroll with a trembling hand. "This... this is the Dark One's spell?"

"Yes."

"Captain Manzana... she said there was a price." Hansel's eyes slid to the jewelry box. He swallowed, reaching for it, but didn't open it. "This?"

"Yes."

Hansel nodded. He glanced at Gothel, then back to the box. He had no reason to trust the witch, but he had to know. He flipped open the lid. A heart (human!?) lay inside, cushioned on green velvet, pulsing gently.

"The heart of the one you love the most."

Hansel cursed and scrambled back in shock. "You mean..."

"King Henry's heart."

Next thing he knew, Hansel had the tip of his spear at Gothel's throat. Breathing hard, he managed to ask, "Is he dead?"

Gothel's face remained calm, even as she tilted her head back away from the metal blade. "Not yet. He sleeps. For now."

"Put it back."

Gothel shook her head slowly. "Think. The fate of your world is at stake. Will you let everyone die because you were too weak to do what must be done? This is your duty. Steward of the king, steward of the realm."

"No. You lie. This is a trick." Steel pricked skin. Hansel ignored the gradual up-welling of blood on Gothel's neck and kept his eyes on her face. "You killed my sister..."

"She was a victim of her own nature," said Gothel. "As are you all. Perhaps it is as well you are too short-sighted to accept my gift, even to save yourselves."

"You're trying to trick me into murdering my best friend." Hansel spared a glance at the bright red heart in the box. _It beats for Jacinda, not for me_ , whispered a treacherous voice at the back of his mind. _Never for me._

"One sacrifice, one death to ensure that a thousand thousand may live."

Could it be true? Captain Manzana had said the Dark One's spell could save them, but had been cagey about the price. Was this why? Or were those false memories planted by Gothel? Hansel didn't know what to believe. _Think._ "So you say."

"Because it is the truth." Gothel met his eyes, and her gaze was too knowing, too penetrating. Could she read his thoughts? Her smile unnerved him, and he would have looked away if he dared.

He could send for the fairies. They had no reason to support a witch. And what if they confirmed Gothel's information?

 _I've already lost Henry._ Hansel tried not to think it, but the dark thought persisted. _Besides, he is king. It's his duty to sacrifice for his people. As for his duty to his mother, to his grandparents — it seems he's already forgotten them._

"You must decide," said Gothel. "The spell must be cast before sundown today, or it will fail."

 _If I can't have him, no one can._ The thought rose unbidden and Hansel forced it back. He had to think of the realm, of Henry himself. But his resolve wavered, and he silently justified himself, _I swear I will find your mother. I will avenge your grandparents. And when I am done, I will beg your forgiveness in the Underworld._ He would give up his own life as soon as he had fulfilled his vow.

Hansel took a shuddering breath, finally lowering his spear. "I'm no sorcerer..."

"You don't need to be," said Gothel. She wiped the blood from her neck, calm as ever. "The magic is inscribed into the scroll. You need only read it... and offer up the final sacrifice."

"If I do this..."

"You will be saving the world."

* * *

Drizella followed blindly, trusting Alice to find the path. Finally freed from the net, she had followed Gothel's trail to the Dark One's farm. They found Rumplestiltskin a cowering, gibbering wreck. Alice's father was in a marginally better state, battered, bruised, and tipsy, none of which helped in his efforts to feed a potion to Rumplestiltskin.

"A transference potion," Hook mumbled to Alice when she asked. "Gothel was here. Hit the Crocodile with some kind of geas..."

"And you think transferring it to yourself will help?" asked Drizella.

"Anything that disrupts her plans could help. The Crocodile is a tricky bastard, magic or no... no good him working for _her_."

"Yeah, that would be bad, very bad." Alice gave Drizella a pleading look.

Drizella nodded, moving to help with the potion. With her help, Hook got the potion down the Dark One's throat, upon which the latter promptly passed out.

"Go, Starfish," said Hook. "Stop Gothel. Whatever her scheme, it bodes ill for all of us."

Now they were hundreds of miles away, in an unfamiliar castle. The room was a spacious office, furnished in the style of the Enchanted Forest — except for the cauldron bubbling in the middle of the floor. A woman and a youth faced each other across the cauldron.

 _Hansel. And Gothel._ Drizella saw to her alarm that Hansel held the curse scroll in one hand and a heart in the other. _Hansel_ was going to cast the curse? Before she could wonder whose heart he held, Alice charged in, summoning a burst of magic that threw both Gothel and Hansel skidding away from the cauldron.

"Gothel!" Alice closed in on Gothel, grabbing her by the collar. Both vanished in a cloud of white smoke.

 _She means to distract her mother to buy me time to get the curse._ Drizella understood Alice's intent without needing an explanation. They had no time for such things. She went to Hansel, who was crouched on the floor, shielding heart and scroll with his own body. She couldn't take the scroll, but a simple spell sent the heart to her hand.

Hansel gasped. He scrabbled for his knife, but Drizella froze him with a gesture.

"Hansel, wait. We don't know what traps Gothel may have laid on the scroll." It couldn't be too bad, could it? Gothel hadn't had the scroll for that long. And she had somehow convinced Hansel to cast the curse. Drizella wondered if that would be so bad. Of course, he hated Drizella (and Alice by extension), but surely he was no friend of Gothel — unless she had tampered with his mind. "You can't trust her."

"I can't trust _you_ ," growled Hansel. "You took our memories away. Even from your own sister!"

"We were trying to protect you," Drizella protested. Not that it had done any good. "I wouldn't harm Ella. What did Gothel say to you?"

"It's not what Gothel said. It's what Captain Manzana said. It's what the Dark One said." Hansel straightened slowly as Drizella's spell waned. "Everyone thinks just because I don't like magic, that I don't understand it. I know more than you think." He held the scroll tightly clenched in his fist. "I can read a spell; the truth was written into this curse. With knowledge, I don't need to trust."

They were interrupted by a frenzied banging on the door, and barely a second later, the door burst open to admit Ella. Ella, with her new face and name — _Jacinda_ — who dashed into the room.

"Hansel! Something's happened to..." Then her eyes widened in shock as she took in the scene. "...Henry. _Drizella?_ What's going on?"

"Ella." Drizella grabbed her sister by the arm. She bit her lip, running mentally through a list of plausible lies before realizing how useless they were. Fine. She reached for her magic and triggered the counterspell to release her sister's memories before letting her go. "Remember."

Ella staggered back, gaze swinging wildly between Hansel and Drizella. "Oh, gods, Drizzy. What have you done? Why do you have that heart?"

"Ella. Ella, this is important. Hansel volunteered to cast the spell that can save us all. I need to know... can we trust Hansel?"

"What?"

"I mean, besides wanting to kill me. Do you trust him to have the best interests of the realm at heart?"

Hansel snorted in derision. "As if you care, witch."

"Of course I care! But if we're all to be made into Gothel's toy-things, we may be better off dead... at least there is freedom in oblivion."

Hansel fidgeted with the scroll, his eyes on the heart in Drizella's hand. "She... she added chaos to the spell. So that even the caster will be caught in it. I don't think she could change it more than that."

"And that's the truth?"

Hansel's eyes flashed. "I'm no liar."

At that, Ella winced. She said in a low voice to Drizella, "We've never been friends, but I know Hansel has always been loyal to Henry. You can trust that much."

A look of pain crossed Hansel's face, and a horrible suspicion took root in Drizella's mind. She said slowly, "The spell is no ordinary spell. It's a curse to break a world and put it back together again across the veil. The cost to cast it is... high."

"The cost? What cost?" asked Ella.

Drizella stared at Hansel. "You must crush the heart of the one you love the most."

Ella gasped.

Hansel's head dipped in a tiny nod.

Ella's hands went to her mouth. "Not Henry. No, Hansel, you can't!"

Henry? Henry, as in the king of the Enchanted Forest? Drizella looked from Ella to Hansel, rendered speechless by shock.

"Jacinda. I have to do this," said Hansel through his teeth. "Our world, our whole lives — everything we ever believed to be true is an illusion. We're no one, nothing, unreal. We were created by a genie's wish to be set dressing in someone else's play."

Ella looked appalled. "So when Captain Manzana was talking about saving the world..."

"This is what she meant. That she wouldn't let our lives be nothing. That I won't. That Henry's grandparents' deaths mattered. _We_ matter, Jacinda. This is the only way we can become _real._ "

"But to do that, you want to kill Henry?"

"I don't _want_... gods, Jacinda." Hansel shuddered, his voice breaking. "Of course I don't _want_ to. But it's better than the alternative: that he was never real at all. That none of us were. I swear, once I've avenged his family and mine, I won't live a day longer. I'll beg his forgiveness in the underworld."

Ella turned to Drizella. "Is... is this true?"

Drizella nodded slowly. "I'm sorry. This wasn't what we wanted, but our time has run out. The spell must be cast today, and the scroll can't be taken away from Hansel by force. Besides, who else is willing to make this sacrifice?"

"I see." Ella took a step towards Hansel, then touched his arm. "You know I love him, too."

Hansel grimaced, but made no denial.

"Ella!" Then Drizella bit her tongue, afraid of inadvertently goading her impulsive sister into something rash when she needed to protect her soul.

"Don't worry, Drizella," said Ella without looking at her. She kept her eyes on Hansel as she continued in a lower voice, "...and Henry loves me, too. You know that."

"Yes," whispered Hansel.

"So there is another possibility. One that saves the life of the person both of us love," finished Ella.

Hansel's eyes widened, and the brief flare of hope on his face jolted Drizella into understanding.

"No! Ella, you can't be serious!" Drizella felt as if she was sinking into a nightmare. _None of this is real._ And it wasn't, so why should it matter who died? But it _did_ matter. It mattered that she had lost Ella once, and couldn't bear to see it again.

Ella finally turned to meet Drizella's gaze, a slight smile on her face. Her voice was calm as she said, "Drizzy, it's all right. By rights, I should already be dead, executed by the king in Opona. It was Henry who saved me. My life was always his."

Hansel said, his voice trembling, "He... He won't. He wouldn't do it. You know him. He... he loves you too much. He... he would die first."

"I know. He has the heart of a hero," said Ella. She laughed sadly. "Like someone from the sagas. That's why we have to force his hand."

"Force his hand? How?"

"My sister still owes you a favor, doesn't she?"

"Ella, you can't!" Drizella staggered back in shock as Ella reached out to her. "You can't ask me that."

"Drizzy, it's for the best. And you said it yourself, we don't have time."

Drizella didn't understand how her sister could say that, or how she could be so calm about it. She herself wanted to scream, but a lifetime of restraint held, and her own voice was quiet as she spoke. "Don't do this. I already lost Ana..."

"It's not about you, Drizzy. If the price for all our lives is that I give up mine, I can do that."

"You have no choice," said Hansel. "You owe me a favor."

"You've decided, then." Drizella let out the breath she had been holding and resigned herself to the inevitable. She was magically bound to grant Hansel whatever favor he asked, within her power. "Ask."

He could have gloated, but he didn't. Hansel simply said, "Return Henry's heart to him. Take Jacinda's — Ella's — heart and see that Henry casts the spell on this scroll."

Given no choice, Drizella woke Henry and summoned him to Hansel's office. Heart returned, heart taken, explanations made...

Henry was horrified.

But he was given no choice, either, not if he cared at all for the lives of his people. And he did care. No matter how much he loved Ella, he knew his duty, as did they all.

Drizella took pity on the young king, even as a new hope grew in her. A slender thread to be sure, but she would take what she could get. "Your Majesty, the blame for this death is mine."

Three pairs of eyes went to her in shock.

Drizella explained slowly, "I once made a wish..."

"What wish?" asked Ella.

"For Ana to be alive again. Don't you understand? This is the price." Then she chuckled at the irony. "Alice is wrong. One egg _can_ hatch into two chickens, if you put a wish in it..."

As Ella and Henry huddled together in their last embrace, Drizella set the spell onto Ella's heart. She still had her little paper box that contained one of Ana's hairs. Now she used that hair to bind one life to the other — if the spell worked, Ana would be alive and well in the new land.

Hansel watched by the window. Now he turned with a warning that sunset was imminent. "Henry. It has to be now."

Ella and Henry looked up, faces streaked with tears. They murmured to each other, then Henry moved to the cauldron. Drizella handed him the heart wordlessly.

"Drizzy," whispered Ella, catching Drizella in a sudden hug.

Drizella hugged her back, choking back a sob. She couldn't speak.

It was time. Henry stood at the cauldron with scroll and heart.

Then only the heart.

And then it was done. A cloud of purple billowed from the cauldron, sweeping over the three standing in the room, then through the walls. It expanded outwards, faster and faster, rolling out to swallow the entire realm. And when the cloud dissipated, there was only the void.

* * *

 _Running before the cloud, Alice chases Gothel to the end of the earth. Reality is a cliff on the edge of an infinite sea of nothing. But Gothel has something... an escape. A wooden door carved from an enchanted tree. She opens the door. Alice catches hold of her mother's ankle. Gothel leaps through the portal. Alice pulls back, digs in her heels. The curse rolls over them..._

 _Do they go through the portal? Do they fall to the curse?_

 _Ask the moon._


	21. Cursed

_And I awoke and found me here, On the cold hill's side. — La Belle Dame sans Merci, John Keats_

* * *

 _Cast ashore with the bitter taste of the Styx staining his tongue, the man awakens in a different place, in a different year. She who once held his heart so warmly has turned cold. Memory is no comfort for what was never there._

 _Still, he has never been one to palely loiter, alone or not. Someone needs him. That much he knows. Everything else he can find out along the way._

* * *

In Vienna, Mr. Gold was exploring the old city on foot with his wife and son when the Dark Curse ripped through him. His thoughts scattered into the void, the world vanishing around him.

Then he opened his eyes, disoriented to find himself lying on his back. He jerked upright even as Belle caught him and tried to ease him back down.

"You fainted." Worried blue eyes gazed down at him.

"I'm all right," he insisted. He sat up again, more slowly, looking around. They were in the lobby of a hotel, and someone had moved him to a couch. Gideon was still in his stroller next to Belle. "I'm fine. Maybe the heat..."

It had been a hot summer, and dressed as he was in his usual three piece suit, blaming his collapse on the heat was plausible enough. A bottle of water and a string of promises to be more careful later, he convinced Belle that they could continue the rest of the day as planned. She knew better than to believe him, but let it go — for now. After dinner, back in the privacy of their own hotel room, she demanded the truth.

"It was the Dark Curse," he admitted. "It's been cast."

"You could feel it? Even from here?"

He made a face. "Even from here." He touched his chest. "All the power dragged out of me to tear open a slice of reality." Then he reached inside his jacket and pulled out the dagger. It shivered under his touch, growing less substantial by the second. Then it was gone.

Belle gasped.

"There's only one real dagger," he explained in a low voice, not meeting her eyes. "And _he_ has it."

"You gave it to him," Belle whispered. "I remember..."

"It was almost two years ago."

"You thought he wouldn't cast it?"

He shrugged. "A calculated risk. I thought we'd be safe enough to do a bit of traveling."

"Do you think Storybrooke's in danger?"

"They have our phone numbers if it comes to that." Then he sighed. "But if it's magical help they want, well, I won't be any use to them."

"What do you mean? You're the..." Belle stopped suddenly. "Oh. Oh, I see."

He nodded. He closed his eyes, not sure how he felt. A burden that had defined him for so long was finally gone, this time forever. He had avoided thinking about it all day, but now that Belle knew, that made it real.

"You're not the Dark One anymore."

* * *

The balance of the worlds shifted. Souls poured from one reality into another, dragged into existence by dark magic. The curse roused the Blue Fairy from her torpor — enough to recognize her predicament, but not enough to escape it. She fled into her own thoughts, where she met herself with dismay.

"You should not be here." Steely eyes met hers, demanded submission.

"You must help me," she begged herself. "The Dark One... Rumplestiltskin..."

"What has he done?" The part of her that had been real confronted that which had been false.

"The Dark Curse," she told herself. "He has twisted it... twisted us. Made a wish into reality."

"This is a corruption of fate." The Blue Fairy absorbed the knowledge from her counterpart, then grimaced in distaste. "Such things were never destined to be."

"He has never been one to obey destiny, from the first," said the Blue Fairy born from a wish. She knew she was a corruption of fate. She felt the darkness binding her to existence when she should have been no more than a discarded possibility. She knew. But she existed, and it horrified her. And clung to it with every fiber of her being. Was this what it had been like for Rumplestiltskin, once he was no longer a Savior? Once he had taken on the cursed darkness? "Ever since his mother cut his fate, he has become the opposite of what he should have been, turning darkness on those loved."

"Saving those who should never have been saved." The first — the true — Blue Fairy was pale, a tremor of fear underlying her words to herself. Then she recovered her aplomb. What must be would be. "You must go back. See that these dark reflections are sent back behind the mirror. They have no place in the realms of the living."

"I can't. I don't have that power." And such was the extent of her corruption that even if she had the power, she wouldn't. That knowledge, she kept unvoiced.

" _He_ does. The Dark One." The Blue Fairy regarded herself sternly. "You know what must be done."

"He doesn't have that power, either. Not anymore." She had felt the power it had taken for the curse to weave so many new souls into the web of fate. He had drained all her magic, and all of his own in both wish and reality.

"Don't be deceived," said the other. "If he has none, he seeks it out. He was powerless before he became the Dark One. He was powerless again after he was no longer the Dark One... until he stole the power of _all_ the Dark Ones. Power enough to kill the the Black Fairy when she brought all the realms to the verge of destruction, power enough to break her curse."

"He did what? But his fate was cut." She knew he had once been destined to die in battle, taking down a great evil — his own mother. Knowing the prophecy, the Black Fairy had used the shears of destiny to prevent that doom. Yet it had still come to pass? Even without a Savior's gift of light magic?

"As you said, he was never one to obey destiny." The Blue Fairy who was real looked at the Blue Fairy who was not. "But this duty falls on you. It was your failure which permitted this perversion of reality. You must see that it is undone..."

"How?"

"Find a way. Gain the Dark One's compliance. Whatever it takes."

She recoiled at the phrase, the same she had heard from countless villains before. "'Whatever it takes'?"

"In the service of fate," said the other.

"Ah." More corruption, more darkness, even if the other justified it as necessity. She should have seen that coming, considering— She diverted the thought before it betrayed her. "I can't. He trapped me. Stripped me of magic and stopped my heart. There's nothing I can do — that's why I came to you."

"Came to me? But it is not my place to meddle in your twisted reality."

"Then the Dark One remains unchecked. And he is not alone."

"What do you mean?"

"There is Gothel."

"Gothel is bound in Merlin's stone tower!" The Blue Fairy clung to her knowledge of reality as it should have been.

"No longer." The wood nymph's power was ancient. Stronger than anything the fairies could muster. "The havoc she could wreak on this realm..."

"...doesn't bear thinking of." The first Blue Fairy shuddered. "You must stop her. Listen. I also was stripped of power, my heart stopped, but in the end, the Dark One revived me. Perhaps yours..."

"No." The other Blue Fairy smiled tightly. "You are on better terms with your version than I am with mine. Even if he wanted to wake me, he is cursed and without his memories now."

"There must be some way..." started the first Blue Fairy.

"Oh, there is." And her tone must have betrayed her, because the first Blue Fairy's eyes widened and she raised her wand in shock...

It wasn't there.

The other Blue Fairy had the wand. All the time she had kept the first Blue Fairy talking, she had silently, invisibly cast a binding spell around her counterpart, taking advantage of their link to siphon away the magic she needed.

 _It's the curse. It's corrupted me._ Or had she always had this streak of selfish self-preservation underneath all the pious words? She had known as well as she knew herself that the first Blue Fairy wouldn't willingly help her tainted reflection.

"You can't do this," said the first Blue Fairy. "This is wrong. You know that!"

"I know," agreed the other. "I also know that your time is done. Didn't you admit that the Dark One saved you? That the Dark One defeated his mother? I doubt he had any help from you."

The first Blue Fairy was silent.

"Well?"

"No," she said at last. "He faced her alone."

"Then it's clear. You aren't needed anymore." The other Blue Fairy granted her counterpart what mercy she could as she took her life and reduced her to mere memory. Infused with new strength, she could rise from the glass coffin, fully restored. She suppressed her guilty conscience. Fate had changed. She served what was, not what "should have been", and who was to say this was worse?

 _We are the same person. It's not murder to choose one possibility over another._

It was murder, and she knew it. But she also knew that if she laid the blame for the shifting of fate at Rumplestiltskin's feet, she was responsible for putting him there. After all these centuries, the two years spent in enforced stasis had given her the space to gain perspective on her past.

She had meddled in fate, pride blinding her to the effects of ill-spoken prophecy. Did destiny need a herald? True destiny could be left to take its natural course. An innocent child had paid the price of her loose tongue, losing both mother and father. And years later, she had separated him from his own son.

It had been Rumplestiltskin's weakness to choose power over his son. But was he right that she shared the blame for that loss? And later for Baelfire's death? At the time, she had accepted it as fate. Princess Emma had not, even to the point of begging the Dark One for help — so Blue had eased her pain with a memory potion. But some memories could not be so easily excised; the potion had damaged Emma's psyche, leaving her unable to save her parents from the Evil Queen. Blue had blamed Rumplestiltskin for creating the Evil Queen, but Blue, in trying to remove the Savior from the Dark One's sphere, had crippled her ability to resist evil. No wonder the _real_ Emma had been so vehement in denying and repressing her other self.

Perhaps she had made mistakes, Blue finally admitted to herself. She had failed the infant Rumplestiltskin, and resented him for her failure ever since. Were they both monsters, when all was said and done?

She had acted in the service of Good. Why did that no longer seem enough justification for her own choices? Her duty was to protect the realms from Evil. But was what she had told her other self just as true for her? Was the time of the Blue Fairy over? She could push up, through the curse and into the Land Without Magic, there to oppose the Dark One or Gothel or whatever other foe presented itself.

Or she could choose another way.

 _That's the darkness speaking._

Or was it enlightenment? If she was honest with herself, she knew she didn't have the power to defeat Gothel. Or the Dark One, if he managed to regain his magic. His mother had been the Black Fairy — who knew what powers lurked in her bloodline?

No. Only one thing had ever stopped Rumplestiltskin. The same thing that had pushed a fateless, powerless spinner into achieving the impossible...

The Blue Fairy made her choice. She descended to the underworld. She found the soul she sought and weighed his heart against her pleas on the balance of fate. The exchange accepted, the soul was permitted to ride the silent ferry down the river of souls into the light.

Granted life. Memory. All the accoutrements of the embodied.

She left him to find his own way, while her own path finally took her beyond the confines of her story.

* * *

Victoria Belfrey, owner of Belfrey Towers and most of the surrounding neighborhood, stood at the window of her penthouse office and tested the name aloud. "Victoria Belfrey... Ms. Belfrey..."

It would do. She had her kingdom at last, whether her subjects were aware of it or not. Only one thorn remained in her side — one last invasive weed in her garden. But it was easily taken care of.

Belfrey smiled to herself as she turned away from the window. Away from the light. This weed was contained for now: caged in metal, in the dark, and away from earth and water. Her thumbprint granted her access to the service elevator and the upper maintenance level. There, under the unnatural flicker of fluorescent lights, lurked her nemesis.

The witch. She had another name under the curse, but they both knew the names that mattered.

"Come out into the light," ordered Belfrey. When the witch didn't respond, Belfrey picked up the chain. She forced the issue, pleased at the heavy rattle of the chain as the witch was dragged out from whatever crevice she had found shelter in. "I want to see you."

The witch glared up at her. "You think you've won?"

"I know I've won." Belfrey hadn't been able to do anything to Gothel in their home realm, but this was a land without magic, and Gothel was as vulnerable as any mortal bound in chains. Belfrey pondered suitable methods of execution. A knife across the throat would be quick, but messy. Dehydration was terribly inhumane, and she had no need of cruelty. Poison, perhaps...

"You think you can kill me?" It didn't take magic to guess that much.

Belfrey scoffed. "You think you can stop me?"

"Perhaps not," allowed the witch. "But I am the last. Think carefully..."

"You think words will stay my hand?"

"That depends. Are you like the rest of your kind — a ravening brute without the foresight to protect your own interests?"

Belfrey frowned. "My own interests would be served best by your absence."

The witch lifted her arms, letting the chains rattle. "You think you don't need me? Fool. It is they who don't need you."

"'They'? What are you babbling about?"

"The future belongs to the machines." The witch bared her teeth. "In your false memories, have you not seen them? The masses paint their nightmares for all to see, too blind to realize how short a time before that apocalypse will fall upon them..."

Belfrey eyed the witch suspiciously. Drawing upon her curse-given past, she vaguely remembered _movies_ , but they were— "Fiction. Fantasy."

The witch laughed darkly. "Kill me and find out. I am the last bastion of natural life in this realm. Your mechanical creations will devour your kind as your kind has devoured mine. Without me, you have no shelter against the coming storm."

The witch was lying, thought Belfrey. Lies were the only weapons left for a helpless prisoner. That meant she posed no threat, and could safely be kept a little longer — and if Belfrey harbored a modicum of doubt about the truth of the witch's words, it wasn't worth mentioning.

"Shelter? It is I who shelter _you_ this time around." Belfrey dropped the chains. "Crawl back to your dark corner and dream all you like about your 'storm' — that's all it will ever be."

She strode away, confident in the power of the Dark Curse to hold even time on a leash. No matter how many threats the witch planted, none of them would ever bear fruit. Belfrey smiled to herself. She had her kingdom. The daughter Marcus had betrayed was alive once more. All was as it should be.

* * *

 _Time seeps in through the cracks. Stray moments pool in the footsteps of a stranger._

 _Not every tower in the city is as well-guarded as Belfrey's glorious edifice. The stranger watches, waits, then slips inside on an old and faded lobby on the heels of an oblivious resident. He avoids the lift and climbs up a musty stairwell, checking the floor against the address scrawled on the underside of his forearm. Once he arrives at his destination, he stares for an eternity before rapping sharply on the door._

 _It cracks open. A wary face peers out at him — youthful, on the brink of adulthood._

 _"Hello," says the stranger. "Are you Henry Reyes?"_

 _"Yeah," answers the boy. "Who are you?"_

 _"I'm Neal Cassidy. I'm your father."_

* * *

 **Author's notes:** Since I'm taking s6 as canon (mostly), that means canon!Emma, with all the damage to her character that entails. For wish!Baelfire, the woman he loved never existed. She's just a phantom, perhaps the least real person in the wish realm.

Ok, I am now caught up with my posting/writing (as in, I've hardly written at all this month), so this chapter marks the last of my regularly scheduled updates. *kicks self to get writing...any second now...honestly...*


	22. Welcome to Hyperion Heights

His son had slammed the door in his face. Neal wasn't sure what he had expected. He had followed the pattern laid down in the story, hoping that the magic of fate would pry open the jaws of this curse, but of course it hadn't worked. In the eyes of this world, he looked more like a creepy pedophile than a fairy tale hero.

"My father is dead! Go away, or I'm calling the police," Henry had shouted through the door.

What could he say? _I got better?_ Neal shook his head ruefully. No, that was no good. "Right. Ok, yeah, I'm going, I'm going."

Neal retreated to a local bar to rethink his strategy.

"Roni's" was the name on the sign, but half of him recognized the woman behind the counter from another life, another time, another place. Then he corrected himself silently. It was the same face, but a different person. _Veronica Reyes_ , whispered a third memory — one not his own. _Adoptive mother of Henry._ And that was why he was here, even when he couldn't afford to waste cash on alcohol — if he wanted to reach his son, he would have to deal with Roni.

She seemed to see something in his expression. She nodded to him with a sympathetic smile. "Rough day?"

Neal grimaced, rubbing his forehead as he sorted through contradictory memories. He had been... dead. Whether for a handful of years or the better part of two decades, his soul had been at peace. Timeless. Now that he had crossed back into the living world, that peace had shattered into a riot of thoughts and feelings, all pushing him every which way. Acutely aware once again of the passage of time, he mumbled, "You could say that."

Roni was friendly. Open. Kind, even. Not the Evil Queen who had terrorized the kingdom or the mayor of a cursed town. But how far would her good will go if he told her the truth?

He cut the visit short and walked away, leaving his stolen car in a quiet side street. False memories led him to a townhouse on the outskirts of Hyperion Heights, but it was true memories of lock picking that enabled him to break inside. He found the spare keys in a drawer in the kitchen. The place was clean and well-stocked; at least he wouldn't starve anytime soon. Further search turned up "Faye Lipson's" checkbook. He whistled softly as he read the balance.

"Did well by yourself under the curse, huh? Seeing as you won't be around to use it, I'm sure you won't mind if I do my bit for the local economy." He opened up the laptop he had found, impressions of passwords and user names springing to his fingertips. Somehow the fairy had transferred her cursed memories to his head.

He no longer had access to his old bank accounts or credit cards, having been officially dead for some five years. He had tried to contact Storybrooke, but the town didn't seem to exist. A spell hid it from outsiders, and he could guess who was responsible. The father who was awake and had magic, the one who could help break the curse, was unreachable.

Forget Storybrooke. Neal would figure out a way on his own. His son who lived in Maine was safe, under the care of his mothers, but the one in Seattle needed him. The curse that trapped him was a kind of hell, keeping Henry even more unchanging than the dead, and less aware.

"You sent me to this world," he muttered to the absent owner of the townhouse. "Did you have a plan, this time around? Or were you just tossing me into the deep end again?"

* * *

Tilly watched the stranger's arrival from her perch on a low rooftop, the two taller buildings on either side transforming it into a canyon of sorts. New in town, and something about him caught her eye.

She, conversely, slid past his notice even when she hopped down onto a dumpster and then the sidewalk. He glanced at her with a quizzical expression and a stammered "Hello?", but she could almost see him forget the encounter a moment later.

Out of sight, out of mind. She was the invisible girl. But she couldn't blame them for not seeing her, when she couldn't do it, either. Everything went vague if she looked too hard at her past or her future. She forgot things, and forgot that she had forgotten them.

Still, the impression of this stranger lingered in her mind's eye. Everyone had a story, and his story snagged onto the corners of her own. She knew, but she couldn't _see_. The big picture wavered out of focus, just like her past. Maybe the detective had a place for the stranger. Nodding decisively to herself, Tilly found her way down a back alley to a disused studio. The windows were boarded up and the lights were off, the air dusty with ambient violence.

Technically part of the Seattle police department (Hyperion Heights precinct), Detective Weaver's Anti-Crime Team was a law unto itself. This place, at the center of his domain, served as a sort of audience chamber. An audience with Weaver was generally a painful experience, witness the thug currently getting his head dunked in a water barrel.

"I need to see Weaver," Tilly told the man stationed at the door.

He nodded, calling across the room, "Someone to see you, Weaver."

Without releasing his grip on his victim, Weaver turned and growled, "What?"

Tilly grinned. "There's someone new in town. Thought you'd want to know."

Weaver wasn't like the others; Weaver _saw_ her. He listened, when she came to him with her tidbits of street gossip and random insights drawn from nothing anyone else could see. However much he pretended to be a rational man, she knew he knew there was another layer to the world that defied reason. He filled out papers on her behalf claiming her as a confidential informant and paid her in marmalade sandwiches and cash, as well as letting her use the shower in his apartment.

He heard her sketchy report, based on nothing but intuition, and nodded. "Keep an eye on that one..."

She replied with two thumbs up, then vanished again into the kaleidoscope world of Hyperion Heights.

* * *

Nick Branson shelved books at the library fifteen hours a week. His best friend, Henry, had a summer job at the farmers' market Tuesdays and Saturdays. This being a Tuesday, he caught Henry after work with plans to head to the pool.

"Yeah, ok, but my mom texted me with a shopping list." Henry already had a bag of peaches and greens from the market, but they still had to make an additional stop at the bakery for the pastries Roni favored.

Nick lurked by the doorway as Henry went to make his order. He watched the baker as she shuffled behind the counter, bagging the pastries for Henry. Something about the woman disturbed him, a prickling at the back of his neck that Nick couldn't explain. He wanted to drag Henry out of there, but couldn't think of any plausible excuse. Finally, Henry completed the transaction and turned. He blinked at Nick's expression, then hurried over.

"Stop staring at her," Henry hissed as he hustled them out the door.

Nick shrugged, the vague sense of danger fading as they walked away from the bakery. "It's not as if she can see me." The baker was blind, but that wasn't what bothered him. He shook off the thought and changed the subject. "So what happened yesterday? You sounded freaked out."

Henry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It was nothing, really. Some guy showed up at our apartment and said he was my father."

"What, like Darth Vader or something?" Nick couldn't help but laugh. He deepened his voice. "'Luke, I am your father.'"

"No, but it was weird. Called me by my name and everything. He was totally serious."

"Well, maybe he really is your father. You know, you being adopted and all."

"So are you. Maybe he's _your_ father." Henry grinned wickedly at him.

Nick looked down at his feet, finding it too difficult to meet that look without flushing. Bad enough to have a crush on his best friend, worse if he began to take it seriously. Henry would never talk to him again. He forced himself to focus on the topic at hand. "You said he knew your name."

"Could have been a mistake." Henry paused to think, then said "Nah, gotta be a scam."

"Well, if he turns up on my doorstep next..."

Henry rolled his eyes. "Pfff. As if."

"Did you tell your mother?"

"Didn't want to worry her. Anyway, he left right after that, so it doesn't matter."

Nick glanced up at last, smiling slightly.

"What?"

"Nothing." Nick envied his friend his bravery. Here he was being scared of harmless old baker ladies, while Henry just brushed off encounters with... with God knew what kind of pervert showing up at his home. But the rest of the day passed in a comforting haze of normalcy, and Nick thought no more about it.

* * *

"You're late." Victoria Belfrey met her daughters in the foyer of her starkly luxurious McMansion. Trust Ivy to complicate something as simple as driving her younger sister home from her summer camp. "What did you do, walk?"

Ivy rolled her eyes. "Actually, yes. She insisted."

"It's for a project for camp, Mom," said Stacy. She brandished a composition book and spouted a stream of gibberish about ecology and human footprints, all enveloped in a haze of new age green propaganda.

Belfrey suppressed a sigh as she shot Ivy an irritated glance. When Belfrey had ordered Ivy to sign Stacy up for a cultural enrichment summer program, she had envisioned trips to museums and classical music concerts, along with a healthy dose of swimming and tennis. Not this... this ecohippie idiocy.

"...used to be gardens," Stacy rambled on. Suddenly she was shoving a weedy yellow flower at her mother. "See?"

Belfrey automatically took the flower. She frowned down at it, opening her mouth to say something dismissive — then inhaled sharply. No. Impossible.

 _I've seen this flower before... in the witch's garden. It can't be here!_

"Be careful!" her daughter squeaked, and Belfrey realized that she was on the verge of crushing the flower.

"Where did you find this?" Belfrey forced her fingers to loosen, handing the flower back to Stacy.

"It was that abandoned lot," said Ivy. "The one with the wishing well thingy."

"It used to be the Community Gardens," Stacy put in eagerly. "That's what I'm saying..."

"We don't have time for this," Belfrey cut in. "We're going to the ballet tonight, remember?" She gestured at Stacy. "Look at you. You're covered in dirt. Ivy, see that she takes a shower and get her presentable."

"Yes, Mother." Ivy took her sister by the hand. "Come on, kid."

The image of the faded golden flower haunted Belfrey all evening. The ballet, Tchaikovsky's _The Sleeping Beauty_ , took on an ominous significance — was something waking up that should have remained dormant? In the story, a prince had broken through the spell with the aid of a fairy. Meddling beasts.

Her mouth set in a grim line, Belfrey excused herself at intermission to call upon her curse-given contacts. She only had to lean on the right people to gain access to the security camera footage from the old community garden site.

Late that night, after the ballet, she stayed up to study the videos. By the next morning, she had a picture of the culprit in her phone. Time to draw upon another of her resources, one that was only a text away.

 _I have a job for you._

* * *

Despite his best efforts to project seriousness and commitment to duty, the newly promoted Detective Rogers couldn't suppress the goofy smile that threatened to take over his face.

He had been assigned to Weaver. Detective Weaver! Rogers had always felt a connection to the older man, beyond their both being British expatriates in a sea of Americans, but had never worked up the nerve to approach him. And now here he was, face to face with the man himself.

Weaver straightened his collar, giving Rogers a once-over before extending his hand. "A pleasure. Detective."

Rogers took the hand, rendered tongue-tied at the contact.

"We'll do great work together," Weaver said at last, smiling slightly and squeezing his hand warmly. "Show me I didn't make a mistake in choosing you."

Rogers managed a nod. "Thank you. I won't let you down." He had no idea why Weaver had picked him. He knew what the others thought of him, what they said behind his back. _One-handed faggot_ , or worse. A constant torrent of jokes and pranks until he had proved he was tough enough to hack it.

Not that Weaver had ever played that game. He lived and breathed for the job, never sparing a speck of human feeling for anything or anyone else. He had no visible personal life, nor tolerated any speculation about the less visible aspects. Above everything, he was known to get results.

 _Keep it professional,_ Rogers admonished himself as he headed home, his shift ending shortly after his meeting with Weaver.

Professional. Rogers reined back a guilty surge of delight as he remembered the old case that had been preying on his mind since his first year on the force. There had been a missing girl, but he had never found anything but dead ends. Now, with his new position as detective, he would be able to dig harder into the case. (And if he impressed Weaver with his dedication, or respectfully asked his advice... well...)

He dozed off that night with pleasant fantasies of the two of them cracking the case together and rescuing the poor girl alive.

* * *

Victoria Belfrey's late-night musings took a darker turn. She glared at her laptop screen, willing the email from the building commissioner to go away, but it persisted, the text as good as a shot fired across the bow. Her plans to convert the old community gardens into a bright new Hyperion Heights Transit Center were being challenged. She scowled at the name on the competing proposal.

 _Samdi Holdings._

No. This would never do. Time was thawing, drip by drip. The outsider was destabilizing the Dark Curse. Belfrey needed him removed. Then she would crush this Samdi with all the power at her disposal. With time frozen for him, he would never even know what hit him.

The next day, she summoned Weaver to her office. He had a new partner in tow, a gormless puppy trailing after a grizzled wolf, but never mind that. "Weaver. The little problem I told you about. Why hasn't it gone away yet?"

"We're looking into it," said Weaver. Behind him, the puppy blinked in obvious confusion.

"Look faster," Belfrey snarled. "I want rid of him. He's a bad element we don't need in this city. Chop chop!"

Weaver merely looked amused, but he made no objection.

 _The curse is holding that far, at least._ Belfrey was reassured by the thought. If the Dark One was still contained by it, then this could only be a small perturbation to her control. The detective would take care of the intrusion and all would be well.

* * *

"What the hell was that?" Rogers waited until they were alone in the elevator to ask the question. "Since when do we work for Victoria Belfrey?"

"We don't work for her," said Weaver. "We work for me." He led Rogers to the car and punched in a location on the GPS. _Roni's_. "Drive."

It turned out to be a bar, the eponymous owner being a sharp-eyed brunette knowledgeable enough to be wary of Detective Weaver. She refused to answer any of his questions. After Weaver left Rogers to pay for the drink, Roni took the opportunity to deliver a warning. "Even as a beat cop, I'm sure you've heard to be careful around him, right?"

"I can take care of myself." Rogers shrugged off the warnings. He knew Weaver projected a certain image, but Rogers had the feeling there was more to him beneath the mask. Without quite admitting it to himself, he welcomed the chance to find out, and hurried after his new partner.

"So who is this 'problem' that has Belfrey's knickers in a twist?" Rogers asked as he pulled over again at Weaver's direction.

Weaver shrugged. "I don't know, but this is the car he drove here in." He nodded at the ancient Honda Civic in front of them. "Run the plates, see what you get." Weaver didn't look surprised when a match was found to a car reported stolen in California a few days ago. "Right. Get the VIN. I'll call it in."

"And the thief? How do you know it was Belfrey's guy?"

"There was an eyewitness," said Weaver. He refused to say any more about his alleged eyewitness, instead taking Rogers to a townhouse a few blocks away. "This is the residence of one Faye Lipson. Our thief was spotted here yesterday." He rapped sharply on the door and raised his voice. "Police!"

After half a minute and no response or sign of activity, Weaver took out a key and his flashlight. As he stuck the key into the lock, Rogers frowned. "We got a warrant?"

"Exigent circumstances. Lipson didn't show up for work two days in a row..." Weaver thumped the key lightly with the base of his flashlight. The pins sprang into place on the second try and the cylinder turned. He pushed the door open. "Come on."

Well, no one had ever accused Weaver of being an Eagle Scout.

Nothing looked out of place inside. A few dirty dishes in the sink and discarded packaging in the trash suggested recent activity. They didn't find any bodies in the basement or tied-up hostages, much to his relief.

"Hmm. What's this?" Rogers poked through the cardboard box on the dining room table. Inside the shipping box was another box. "A paternity test kit?"

Weaver came over to look. "Ah. Interesting."

"You think Lipson and our guy have a thing?"

"Faye Lipson doesn't have any children, nor is she currently pregnant as far as anyone knows."

"Maybe she has a secret love child?"

Weaver gave him a look. "You watch too many soap operas."

"I do not watch..." Rogers started, then bit off the rest. "So what does all this have to do with Belfrey? Do you think _she_ and...?"

"Belfrey does have two children," Weaver acknowledged.

"Are we thinking blackmail situation here?"

Weaver looked troubled for the first time. "It's _some_ kind of situation, and I have a feeling it's nothing as simple as blackmail."

"Well, whatever it is, we'll get to the bottom of it, right?"

Weaver chuckled. He said softly, "Oh yes. That we will."

* * *

 **Author's note:** Yeah, the shady Blue Fairy escaped OUAT and got a job at Brakebills University, LOL. Not that they don't have their own troubles, but at least she's in a far better show now!


	23. Time Considered as an Insoluble Cube

**Author's notes:** Finally getting back to this, after a few months of burnout. I really need to just finish writing it. Someone give me a kick in the butt...

I know I said no timey-wimey, but I lied. There's always been a temporal element in the Dark Curse, hence time in Hyperion Heights is a bit wonky.

* * *

 _Tick. Tock. Simple. One moment follows the other in orderly procession — until nature is disrupted by a curse designed to warp time, space, and fate. Until the curse itself is disrupted, leaving time and memory to stutter and skip, falling out of alignment. The distortion is invisible to the human eye, the edges of rationalization imperceptible to the human mind._

 _So. Tock. Tick. Tick tick tick tock tick. Tock? Tick..._

* * *

"I'm not trying to take your son away," Neal reassured Roni, having finally approached her with the truth. One version of it, anyway. "Things were... complicated with the birth mother. I didn't even know I was a father until we happened to meet years later, and everything came out. Took me years to track Henry down after that..."

"About seventeen years too late," said Roni sharply. "You can't just waltz into his life now and expect him to welcome you with open arms."

"No, I know that. But all I want is a chance. I can't make up for lost time, but I'm here now." Gods, wasn't that what his own father had said to _him_? Neal silently cursed the fates for trapping his family in this painful cycle. He took a breath and hoped Roni believed in his sincerity. "Please, I never chose to give up my son. I just want him to know that."

Roni eyed him skeptically. "There's still the small matter of proof."

"I know. We can get tested. I bought a kit, I can go get it..."

Roni held up a hand. "No, _I'll_ buy a kit."

"You think I tampered with it?"

"Well, I don't know you, do I? So we can hop down to the pharmacy and we'll get a fresh kit, together, everything open and aboveboard."

Neal sighed. "Fine."

Roni smiled slightly. "Besides, you might not want to go home right now. The cops were in here earlier, asking about you."

"The cops?" Shit. Neal tried to think what he had done to attract their attention. Had one of Faye Lipson's neighbors called the police on him? "Look, I'm not... if you think I'm some kind of danger to your son, I'm not that."

"Hmm. But you're not surprised about the cops."

Neal spread his hands, conceding the point. "Maybe I've had to skirt the law on occasion." He hadn't even had a legal existence in this realm when he first arrived. It had taken years to establish an identity robust enough to stand up to official scrutiny, and now that was gone, unless he claimed a miraculous return from death — in a world where fraud was far more common than miracles. "But I haven't always had a choice about that, either. I was just a kid when I came to this country."

Roni nodded slowly. "That happens." Then she sighed. "Well, I'm not about to call ICE, but that doesn't mean I want you near my son, either."

"But the test?"

"Yeah. Henry deserves to know the truth. And, well, in case..." Roni frowned at him. "In case of medical issues."

"There aren't any as far as I know," said Neal. Magical curses and fate's dark sense of humor weren't _medical_ issues, after all.

Roni nodded. "All right. God, I don't know how I'm going to tell him..."

"Ah. About that." Neal grinned sheepishly. He braced himself for the explosion, then told Roni about his previous visit to Henry.

"Why, you—!"

Neal held up placating hands. "Hey, I left as soon as I realized he was home alone. Came here after that—"

"And didn't breathe a word of this to me at the time." Roni scowled at him, the Evil Queen's murderous rage glinting at the back of her eyes.

Neal shrugged ruefully. "I wasn't sure what to say. It took me a while to work up the nerve to just blurt it straight out."

"Hmph." Suspicion lingered in her gaze, but her anger seemed to abate. "Fine. I suppose that doesn't change anything."

The pharmacy down the street was oddly familiar. _Faye Lipson is a pharmacist; she works here_ , Neal thought. Then he remembered it was all a lie — this building hadn't existed a week ago, and the Blue Fairy had never set foot in this place. He kept his thoughts to himself, knowing how crazy any explanation would sound to 'Roni.'

Even this edited version that Roni gave to her son sounded farfetched, like something out of a trashy talk show. Yet here they were. Neal let Roni do most of the talking, watching Henry's reactions nervously. It had been simpler with Emma back in New York, an idea Neal would have laughed at if anyone had suggested it to him at the time. But Henry had been younger then, ready to latch onto any parent who wasn't the Evil Queen.

Roni wasn't the Evil Queen, and she wasn't Emma. Henry had a life here with her, no matter that it was a delusion, and Neal was an unwelcome intruder. Henry bore his presence with cold politeness and agreed to the DNA test with little enthusiasm. _What did you expect?_ Neal reminded himself that it was a start, that he had not been summarily banished from his son's life, that they still had time. Once the curse was broken, he could explain the full story.

Once the curse was broken, Henry would remember his birth mother.

 _His birth mother doesn't exist._ Neal grimaced, remembering that Emma Swan was not in Hyperion Heights. She lived in Storybrooke and had no idea that another Henry would come looking for her — because he would, wouldn't he? It wasn't in the boy's nature to abandon his family.

 _Not that we're always given a choice about that._ Whether Emma would welcome her wishborn child or not, Neal didn't know, but he knew he himself no longer had a place in her life. After all the heartbreak he had put her through, after what Emma had confessed in Neverland, after dying _again_ , Neal had to let her go, however much he still loved her. Love was not enough, not when fate had cut them apart — three times. She had moved on. Neal had to respect that. But that was a worry for another day. Right now, he did his awkward best to become acquainted with his son. "So, how do you feel about ice cream?"

"I'm not _ten_ ," came Henry's scornful reply. "Or a dog. I won't wag my tail just because you toss a few treats my way."

Yeah. This was going to be another long day.

* * *

 _Wake up, detective._

What?

 _Wake up. You've missed your turn._

Turn? It was the entire game that he was missing. He looked down at the chess piece clutched in his fingers.

"Wakey wakey, Rogers."

"Huh?" Rogers jerked upright, blinking his eyes open. He felt the weight in his hand. Not a chess piece after all, but a gray cloth-bound notebook he knew as well as his own name. "Sorry."

Weaver grunted and handed him a cup of coffee. "You didn't miss anything."

The stakeout had dragged on forever, far longer than seemed reasonable, until he counted the hours on his fingers. Long or short, it had yielded nothing useful. Faye Lipson hadn't returned, nor their suspect.

Weaver checked his phone. "Still nothing on Lipson's mobile." The last call had apparently been made a week ago. Bank and credit card records had also come up blank after a flurry of online purchases in the two days before they had shown up on her doorstep.

Rogers took a sip of coffee, paging idly through the notebook in his lap.

Weaver glanced over at him. "What's that?"

"Sketches. Angsty teen-age poetry... It's from a cold case I've been working on. Let's hope we have better luck with Lipson." Rogers sighed, then flipped the notebook shut and handed it over in answer to Weaver's raised eyebrows.

"Yeah." Weaver fell silent for a moment as he examined the notebook. Then, "Ah. Eloise Gardener. I remember... you must have been a rookie then, no?"

"Aye. I had just joined the force. It was practically the first case I was on." Rogers dropped his gaze to his coffee, guilt coloring his explanation. "I had a lead, but I had been drinking on the job and by the time I caught up, all I got was a bullet in an alleyway."

"Mmm." Weaver handed the notebook back, his expression inscrutable when Rogers risked a glance to gauge his partner's reaction.

"Don't worry. I haven't touched a drop since then."

"Very commendable," said Weaver dryly.

Rogers remembered Weaver's visit to Roni's bar, knocking back a shot of whiskey as he questioned her, and winced. "I didn't mean... that is..."

Weaver chuckled. "Naturally not."

Rogers flushed. Damn. He closed his mouth before he could stick his foot into it again. He was as bad as a schoolboy with a crush, and from the glint in Weaver's eyes, his partner could see right through him.

 _Concentrate on the job,_ he reminded himself. _That's what we're here for._

* * *

"Most awkward dinner ever," Henry complained to Nick as they waited in line at the coffee shop after work, the stress of the previous night serving as an excuse to indulge in a couple of overpriced mocha frappuccinos today.

"That bad, huh? Well, you said the results came out positive. He is your father, biologically," Nick said, doing his best to sound supportive.

"I don't need a father. I don't want him. Not _now_. He was never here before, and I got along fine. What's the point?"

Nick shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe you can squeeze a few bucks out of him? Guilt him into funding your college tuition?"

Henry snorted. "No such luck. The man doesn't even seem to own a car."

"Well, how is your mom taking all this?"

"She hates it. But she also thinks it wouldn't be fair to cut him off completely, since it wasn't his fault he never had the chance to be a father." Henry rolled his eyes. "If you believe his story..."

"Do you?"

"Do I look like a lie detector?"

"I guess you'll have to get to know him better, then." Nick grinned as Henry slapped his arm.

"Shut up."

"Seriously, though."

Henry sighed. "Well, there was one idea I had..."

"Yeah?"

"There's our frappuccinos. Come on. I'll tell you outside."

Nick nodded. August was the height of summer in Seattle, a time to enjoy the last drops of sun before gray drizzle enveloped the city for the rest of the year.

As Henry explained it, his boss was part of a group trying to save the Hyperion Heights Community Gardens from being dug up and turned into a big ugly glass and concrete block of a Transit Center. "They're gonna hold a plant-in this Saturday—"

"A what?"

"It's a protest. You know, like a sit-in except they're farmers so they plant things instead. Though it's not really the season, so it's mostly symbolic. Hearts and minds, you know?"

"So you're going?" Nick made a face. "I guess I'm free on Saturday."

Henry chuckled. "Knew I could count on you. Anyway, I invited _him_ , my so-called dad, and he said ok. So you can meet him, see what you think..."

Nick nodded. He _was_ curious. And a little bit jealous.

That little splinter of jealousy dug into him all the way home, no matter how much he tried to reason with himself. He _had_ a father. What did it matter who was genetically related to whom? The man who had raised him, the one he had called 'Dad' his whole life, was his true family. It wasn't as if you could suddenly love some stranger on the say-so of a lab report. No, he loved his _real_ father—

"I'm back!" Nick called on his way to the kitchen, abruptly lowering his voice when he saw his father already there at the table, contemplating a spread of Tarot cards.

—even if Nick sometimes wanted to die of embarrassment at the whole witch doctor shtick. Nick had cringed all through middle school when his father had legally changed his name from "Mike Branson" to "Baron Samdi". Why did a perfectly respectable real estate developer have to cover himself with superstitious mumbo jumbo?

 _All part of the image_ , his father had said. _A way to stand out and keep my rivals off balance._

Sure. But he still had a cabinet full of ritual magic supplies and regularly consulted the cards. So that was another source of envy for Nick. _Henry's_ parent was straightforwardly normal, a hardworking, honest single woman. You always knew where you stood with her. No games, no theatrics, just simple kindness combined with a refusal to take anyone's shit.

Unlike the man who glanced up from his cards, an enigmatic smile twisting his lips as he greeted his son. "Nick."

"Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you." Nick sidled past him to the fridge, opening the door only to stare in dissatisfaction at the contents.

"You didn't. Although it would ease my mind, not to mention the electricity bill, if you could make your decision before the refrigerator reaches room temperature..."

"Sorry!" Nick repeated. He snatched a jar of pickles and sat down at the corner of the table.

His father sighed and swept up his cards smoothly, tucking the deck away in an inside pocket. He glanced at his watch, then at Nick. "How do you feel about me bringing back some burgers and fries to go with that?"

Nick, already fishing a second pickle out of the jar, nodded. "Sure, sounds good."

Later.

 _Later than you think. How many times have they had this conversation? The steps repeat as the dance circles around, but eventually the music must move on. The dancer follows the music, but the musician follows the map, where the repetition is compressed into a single line, and so it is for a story told._

"It turns out that guy really was his father," Nick said, waving a greasy french fry for emphasis. "Can you believe it? After all this time, he just pops up on Henry's doorstep."

"Fate is a strange thing," murmured his father.

Nick shrugged. "I dunno. At least his dad's alive. No chance of me ever meeting my birth parents."

"Sadly, no, not in this life."

"It's not that I miss them." Nick stared down at his plate. Stomach full now, he used the fry to draw a smiley-face in ketchup. "But sometimes I think, I don't even have any pictures or mementos..."

"Actually..." His father cleared his throat, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant, almost apologetic. "There is one thing."

Nick jerked his head up. "Wait, what? You..."

"I have something that once belonged to your birth father."

"What? How?" Nick felt a surge of anger. "You never said! Why...?"

"Ah. I had my reasons." His father retrieved a black velvet bag from one of his locked cabinets, undoing the draw string as he returned to his seat across from Nick. "In a way, this is what brought you to me."

"What are you talking about?" All his life, Nick had known that his mother, an unidentified street kid, had died giving birth to him. Now a chill ran through him. Had his father been lying to him? "What reasons?"

"This is also how I lose you." His father looked almost regretful as he slid the velvet bag across the table to Nick. "It was yours once; now I return it to you. Henceforth you are a free agent."

Nick opened it gingerly, pulling out... a compass? It looked like some kind of antique, heavy in his hand. "What is this?"

Then he froze. Memories shocked through his mind, an overwhelming tide that left him stunned and gasping for breath. Voices clamored in his ears and he couldn't see, or he saw too much.

He wasn't Nick Branson. He was _Hansel_ , and this wasn't his world. This wasn't his life.

It was. His fist tightened around the compass as he struggled to make sense of the dual memories. His father — his true father — was long dead. And so was Henry's. The face in front of him resolved into one from memory.

 _Facilier. The necromancer..._

True images and false clashed in his head. He clung to the one truth that held in both worlds. _Henry._ He had to escape. Had to warn him—

Nick leaped to his feet, knocking his chair over in his haste to get away. But the room was still spinning around him, and he tripped over the chair. He stumbled blindly into the door frame, barely managing to keep himself upright.

Facilier hadn't moved.

"You. Your magic..." Nick focused his horror on his father (true or false, the memories persisted). "What are you planning?"

Facilier raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Henry's father," Nick choked out. "You brought him back. Why?"

Facilier shook his head slowly. "No, that was none of my doing. I have no such power here."

"You showed me my sister after she was dead."

"Light and shadow and spirit only. Not flesh."

"Then who is he? They did a DNA test!" Nick's knowledge of the world persuaded Hansel of the validity of the science. It also told him that the dead stayed dead.

"Then perhaps he is truly Henry's father."

"Are you telling me you had nothing to do with it?"

Facilier shook his head again. "If he is real... if this is true, then it seems we have a revenant in Hyperion Heights."

"In the Land Without Magic," whispered Hansel, half to himself. "How is that even possible...?"

"That is a misnomer." Facilier met his gaze calmly. "More accurate to say that magic sleeps... but not for much longer."

Gods. Magic. Was there no escaping it? Clutching his father's compass in a death grip, Hansel turned away from the man Nick called 'Dad' and ran blindly into the night.

* * *

It wasn't what Mother wanted, but whatever Stacy wanted, Stacy got — as long as any unpleasantness and inconvenience could be delegated to Ivy.

Ivy scowled at her little sister. "It's not going to do any good. You'll just get sunburned and Mother will still bulldoze the lot for her project."

"It's a bad project. Bad for the community and bad for the environment! When Mom sees how many people show up for the protest, maybe she'll change her mind about it."

Ivy rolled her eyes. "She'll just get more pissed off, and take it out on innocent people..."

"Well, she said I could go, and she said you had to take me, so let's go." Stacy grabbed Ivy's hand and dragged her to the door.

"Fine." Ivy leveraged Stacy's environmental consciousness to agree to wait for the public bus. (Parking was always a pain.) She took the opportunity to point out the benefits of smart growth to her sister. "She's not the devil, Stacy. It's not as if she can keep the population from growing, so some kind of well-planned high-density urban center is actually better than just letting everyone sprawl everywhere. Sure, it's a shame to lose the community gardens, but that space has more utility as a transit center, freeing up other land for gardens and whatever else you want..."

Stacy shot her a look. "Did you get that off one of her brochures?"

"I _wrote_ the damn brochure for her," grumbled Ivy, not entirely inaccurately. Cheap family labor, that was how her mother saw her. So today, she had to play moral support for her sister.

And bodyguard. Not far from the community garden lot, a homeless woman had been viciously attacked in an alleyway and left to bleed out. Luckily, someone had called 911 in time to save her life.

Stacy, of course, had heard all about it. "It's just one street away. Can we go see?"

"Don't be morbid. What is there to see?"

"Do you think whoever attacked her is still around?"

"I don't know, but that's why I have the pepper spray, just in case they are."

As it turned out, the mouth of the alley was blocked off by black and yellow police tape.

"Keep back," muttered Ivy, keeping a grip on Stacy's hand, trying to hurry her past. "No, for God's sake, no selfies. Come on, we're almost there. I hear shouting..."

A crowd had already begun to gather at the community garden site. At first they milled around aimlessly with their cardboard signs and slogan-bearing T-shirts, but the arrival of a group from the farmer's market with wheelbarrows bearing seeds and plants spurred them into more purposeful action. Ivy freed Stacy to wriggle her way into the line for seeds, watching from a distance.

Ivy had never felt comfortable in crowds, especially not one so loud and sweaty. She backed away under the eaves of a sad little used-book shop and crossed her arms over her chest, watching the scene warily. Over in one corner, a TV van brought in a crew of local reporters. Was that one of the organizers setting up a podium? God, was she going to have to listen to speeches? And there were the police, cars blocking off traffic, lights flashing.

"Come to see the fun?" The question, bubbling with suppressed laughter, shocked Ivy out of her abstraction.

"What the hell?" Ivy reached reflexively for the pepper spray, but her fingers loosened as she took in the speaker, a young woman crouched on top of the dumpster in the alley next to the book shop. "Who are you?"

"Tilly." The woman grinned, toying with a Rubik's cube as she watched Ivy, head tilted in amusement. She looked like the kind of ragged street dweller who flitted in and out of the fringes of Ivy's world, hawking fancy watches of dubious provenance. The kind of person her mother dismissed as "emotionally disturbed" and didn't spare a second glance for.

"Huh." Ivy eyed the cube. It was missing a third of its colors, and the ones that were there looked like they had been stuck on haphazardly with no regard to their original placement. "Is that thing even solvable?"

"Ah. That would be telling!" Tilly twisted the cube a few times with no rhyme or reason that Ivy could discern. "It's the key to time, you know."

"Never mind. I don't want to know." Ivy edged away, finding something about Tilly's gaze disturbing. Unsettlingly familiar, as if half-remembered from a dream. She felt an affinity for the stranger, an up-welling of affection that she didn't trust.

"Oh, look, they're arresting people now," Tilly said in a conversational tone, derailing Ivy's train of thought.

"What!?" Ivy whirled back to look, just in time to see a man being shoved into the back of a police car. "Damn! Stacy! Stacy!" She took off into the crowd in search of her little sister. Mother would _not_ be pleased if Stacy got caught up in some kind of police sweep.

Time to go home.

* * *

Hansel recognized him. That came as a shock, to come face to face with the man he had known for half his life from the giant portrait hanging in the royal palace. Henry didn't remember, but Hansel had his suspicions about Baelfire — or Neal Cassidy, as he was known in this world.

If it really was him, and not a glamour or a shapeshifter. If Facilier was right, if there really was magic in this land...

Hansel couldn't trust anything. Not his false father, not Neal Cassidy, and certainly not the blind baker. He shuddered at the memory. It had come to him in a cold wash of fear, when he remembered where he knew her from. What was _she_ doing here? When had she left Oz, and why? What about the Wicked Witch of the West? Was she here as well? Gothel? And if they were, what should Hansel do about it? What could _Nick_ do?

 _Damn witches._ He touched the scars on his arms. He remembered a cage. Remembered torture and murder. A barrel filled with children's bones. _Not here. I won't let them, now that I know who they are._

He knew one thing. He had to protect Henry. Blinded by the curse he had cast, Henry believed Captain Manzana to be his mother. Had he missed his true mother so badly that he had cast the one-time Evil Queen to fill that hole in his heart?

 _Does she remember? What if she wakes up and hates Henry for forcing her into this illusion?_

He followed Henry and his new-found father to the protest at the community gardens, lost in his own thoughts. Should he try to break Henry out of the curse, explain things to him? How, without sounding completely crazy? Who was Neal, really? Where had he come from, if he was dead in the Enchanted Forest? Was he a demon escaped from the underworld? What were his intentions? Hansel watched and listened, but Neal was so utterly mundane as he clumsily attempted to bond with Henry that Hansel began to doubt himself. Nick wondered if he had suffered some kind of mental breakdown, or if someone had slipped him a hallucinogen. A floating sense of unreality crept over him; he didn't know who he was. All around him came chants of "Save our community gardens!", the crowd's energy bleeding into the air like... like magic.

Nick didn't believe in magic; Hansel feared it.

Numb and bewildered, he didn't notice the police pulling Neal aside until Henry's outraged protests woke Hansel from his daze. But it was too late. A plainclothes officer already had Neal shoved against the side of a police car, handcuffing and frisking him almost before Nick could comprehend what was happening.

And then they were gone.

"We have to do something!" Henry turned to Nick, frantic with worry.

"Yeah. Yeah, ok," Nick (or was he Hansel?) replied. "It'll be all right." Did this mean Neal really was Sir Baelfire? Or that he was an imposter? Hansel had no idea. Nick was darkly amused that being arrested had done more than anything else to put Henry on the same team as his putative father. "We'll figure something out."


	24. Interrogating the Substrate

**Author's note:** Finally managed to write something. Will try to update more frequently...

* * *

Magic seeped under her skin like a premonition.

Victoria Belfrey shivered in appalled denial. _No! It must be some trick._ She made a hasty excuse to an oblivious client and hurried away into the bowels of her fortress, the click-click-clicking of her heels an ominous drumbeat underlining her fears.

 _Drums throbbed in the ether, music and madness surging out of a primeval spring..._

As the restricted elevator carried her upwards, she stared at the numbers blinking their soothing count of rationality and forced herself to breathe. Everything was fine. Even if Gothel had slipped some seed of sorcery past the barriers of the Dark Curse, Belfrey couldn't let the witch rattle her into making a mistake.

And indeed, the bindings held. The chains were unweakened, the witch still trapped, despite the sly smirk that hinted at secret plans.

 _Mind games,_ Belfrey told herself as she retreated back into the elevator. _Relax. Everything's under control._ But her hard-won calm was tested as the doors opened to reveal Ivy.

"What are you doing here?" Belfrey snapped, anger covering for the surge of paranoia as she realized that her daughter had somehow tracked her down. _She has access._ Belfrey, having had no interest in the mundane tasks of building maintenance, had delegated that responsibility to Ivy, meaning she had override codes for all the locks in the tower. Belfrey had never thought that (under the dull routines of the Dark Curse) her daughter would have cause to use that access. But what if she was wrong? What if the little brat had ventured into that hidden sanctum? Made contact with Gothel already? It didn't bear thinking about.

"They were arresting people at the protest. I figured you didn't want Stacy swept up in that, so we left early." Ivy's expression held only annoyed innocence.

Belfrey scoffed in disgust. "So where did you leave your sister?"

"She went home."

"Fine. Then why are you here?"

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Ivy's face before it was smoothed away. "I wanted to ask you..."

"What?"

Ivy hesitated.

Belfrey rolled her eyes. "Spit it out. I haven't got all day." She didn't bother to wait for the answer, instead pivoting towards her office and trusting her daughter to follow. The last thing she needed was questions about what was locked away in the restricted zone of Belfrey Towers.

"Do you believe in reincarnation?"

"Reincarnation! What brought that on?" Belfrey paused at the door of her office to peer back at Ivy. _She can't be remembering. It's just those eco-hippies spouting some New Age nonsense._ Nevertheless, a chill ran through her at the thought that the curse could be weakening. _No. Impossible._

Ivy shrugged. "Never mind."

"'Never mind'? Yet you deemed it important enough to come in here on a Saturday just to ask me that question?"

"I came in to catch up on my work," said Ivy. "It was just an idle thought." She waved a dismissive hand and scowled. "Brought on by the heat and the noise, no doubt."

"Hmph." Belfrey stepped into her office, moving automatically towards her desk, then froze. "No."

"What's wrong?" Ivy's gaze followed Belfrey's to the half-broken Rubik's cube lying on the desk. Her hands flew to her mouth, covering a gasp.

"No," Belfrey repeated in shock. She wrenched open the desk drawers, hoping she was mistaken, searching everywhere for the elephant figurine that was the key to her power over the curse. _Stupid. So stupid to leave it in plain sight._ But it should have been safe. No one should have known, no one should have dared. Unless... Belfrey pinned Ivy with a glare. "You! Did you take it?"

"What?" Ivy shook her head. "No, no, I haven't even been here since..."

But Belfrey recognized the flash of guilt in her daughter's eyes. "You know something."

Ivy said nothing, but Belfrey caught her furtive glance towards—

"This... thing." Belfrey swept up the cube, its faded colors so out of place on the immaculate altar of her desk, and threw the toy accusingly at her daughter. "You've seen it before. No, don't bother lying. Tell me!"

Ivy stared down at the object clutched in her hands. "It's... it's a Rubik's cube. A kind of puzzle. A children's toy..."

"Do you take me for a fool?" Belfrey's own fingers clenched around the talisman that wasn't there, drawing on the remnants of the power she had claimed. " _Tell me where you saw it._ "

"There... there was a girl," Ivy stammered at last. "No one important."

"Who?" demanded Belfrey.

"T-tilly."

 _Tilly?_ Gods. Belfrey knew at once who 'Tilly' was, even though it should have been impossible. The talisman that could pluck at the threads of the curse to bring a family together could equally keep people apart, and Rapunzel had made sure her daughter and that witch's get would never meet. She had failed.

"Tilly who?" Belfrey asked pointlessly, her voice a strangled croak.

"No last name." Ivy blinked, the spell broken. She met her mother's gaze. "Excuse me. I should be getting back to work..."

Belfrey was too shaken to try to stop her. _How much does she remember? What if she's already plotting behind my back with Gothel?_ No. Belfrey could stop that much at least — she just had to move the witch to a safer prison, one that Ivy wouldn't find.

* * *

"You can't arrest him. He hasn't done anything!" The boy — Henry — glared fiercely at Rogers.

"That's yet to be determined," said Rogers, trying to put equal measures of firmness and sympathy in his voice. He _did_ feel sympathy. The kid looked sincere enough, no matter what his father might have done, and it would only be worse from here if this 'Neal Cassidy' turned out to be guilty.

"What about bail?" asked the boy's mother — Roni, of Roni's bar, of all people.

"That's decided at the arraignment."

"Which is when?"

"Within 48 hours." That was the procedure, but Rogers had a bad feeling about this case. Nothing quite added up. Weaver wanted to pin the missing woman — Faye Lipson — on Cassidy, yet officially, there _was_ no missing person case in the first place. And then there was the homeless victim, now in the hospital, who might never wake up at all. Cassidy didn't look like he had that kind of violence in him — but Rogers knew better than to trust appearances. Not that they had enough evidence yet to make any charges stick, but Rogers was not about to admit that. In 48 hours, Cassidy might walk. Or Weaver would pull something... well. Weaver being Weaver.

Eventually Rogers gave them enough answers to — not satisfy them, but to get them out the door, for now.

* * *

Rogers lurked in the corner, keeping just out of line of sight of the suspect while Weaver conducted the interrogation.

Weaver faced the man across the table, asking as if he had not already asked a dozen times before, "What brings you to Hyperion Heights, Mr. Cassidy?"

"I told you," Cassidy said tiredly. "My family needed me." Cassidy insisted that Faye Lipson was his aunt, and Henry Reyes his son — claims that a search through the records hadn't been able to verify. Not that everything was in a computer database, but it didn't help his case.

"So urgently that you had to steal—"

"Borrow."

"—a car?"

"Yes." Cassidy leaned forward, a hint of something sharper breaking through his weariness. "Can you understand that? You got any family, Pops?"

Weaver's eyes narrowed. His voice went cold. "Not anymore."

Cassidy winced. "Yeah, well. Family means something to me."

"Then let's talk about your family. Your 'aunt', Faye Lipson. Where is she? I'd like to hear what she has to say about your less than salubrious activities in this city..."

Cassidy muttered something that sounded like, "...doubt it."

"Apparently no one has seen her for days, yet this doesn't seem to concern you. Does she make a habit of going AWOL?"

"She... she needs a break sometimes, that's all. It's how she copes with stress. Turns off her phone and takes off."

"Lovely. If you don't start giving us real answers, her 'stress' issues will be a walk in the park compared to yours." Weaver favored their suspect with a twisted half-smile, promising a world of pain.

"I'm telling you guys the truth!"

"Then where is Faye Lipson?"

"I don't—" Cassidy cut himself off abruptly. A few moments later, he said slowly, "Actually... I may have an idea."

"Do enlighten us."

"She's... she's an amateur archaeologist. I think I know where she's digging this time."

Rogers scowled at Cassidy's back, instinct telling him that the man was still hiding something, but at least it was progress. He straightened, unfolding his arms from across his chest, and circled around to face Cassidy. "Aye? Where?"

"I'll take you there," Cassidy offered.

"Or you could tell us the location," said Weaver, but Cassidy resisted all efforts to bully the information out of him. Again, Rogers had the uneasy feeling of currents shifting beyond his perception. Was this more than a prisoner angling for a chance to make a run for it? Whatever the truth of the matter, Weaver eventually conceded the point. "Looks like we're going on a field trip, Rogers."

A phone call interrupted them before they could set off.

"Damn. I have to go." Weaver shoved his mobile back into his pocket and frowned at Rogers before he could open his mouth to ask. "No, I'll take it myself. You handle Cassidy, check out his story."

"Got it." Rogers eyed Cassidy. "You gonna give me any trouble, mate?"

Cassidy snorted. Handcuffed, exhausted, and unarmed, he didn't look like he would put up much resistance.

"Right. Come on, then."

* * *

'Roni' sent Nick home. Not knowing what else he could do to help Henry, Hansel acquiesced. He could see that Roni didn't remember her other life, and Hansel didn't want to disrupt that mask, thinking that she could be trusted to protect her son, while Captain Manzana's loyalties were less predictable.

But 'home' meant Nick's home, not Hansel's. It was a lie. Hansel reached the bus stop and kept walking; he had nowhere to go. _Henry's_ home was just as much a lie, but Hansel didn't want to rip that away from him, even had he known how. He thought of Facilier, wondering why he had chosen to wake Hansel rather than the woman he loved. _True Love_. Hansel had witnessed it himself. It had saved her before; surely it could do so again? Yet Facilier had not approached Roni since... Hansel couldn't remember. _Nick_ couldn't remember, not through the fog of the curse.

If the curse broke, Henry would lose his mother for the second time. Hansel didn't know where to find Princess Emma. Did she languish in a dungeon somewhere — locked up as surely as Henry's father was now? The Evil Queen had taken her, but the Land Without Magic was vast, its population a million times bigger than the Enchanted Forest, and Hansel didn't know where to begin to find the Evil Queen.

Nor did he did know where to find Gothel, who had wanted Hansel to cast this curse for her.

The one enemy he knew where to find was the Candy Witch — and why was she even here? Had the Wicked Witch crossed to this land as well? Inevitably, Hansel's footsteps took him to the bakery. It was late and the doors were locked. Nick peered in through the windows, startled to see movement in the back.

 _She's here._ His heart pounded and his breath shortened in a flurry of fear and anticipation. His fists clenched as the memories came back to him, all the more vivid for having been suppressed.

 _A house made out of gingerbread. A cage and a waiting oven. Barrels filled with children's bones. Candles made of human fat — burning with a heavy reek of dark magic..._

Hansel slipped through an alleyway to the back. He shrank into the shadows and watched as the witch emerged with a bulging trash bag which she tossed into a dumpster. Without thinking, Hansel darted forward as she went back inside, catching the door before it clicked shut. There he froze, barely breathing, peeking through the open sliver into the kitchen beyond.

Clean. Harmless. A simple bakery, full of wholesome smells — cinnamon and chocolate, cakes and sugary fruit fillings.

 _Lies._

She was called Hilda Braeburn in this world. If she didn't remember who she had been, was she still the same person?

 _Is Henry the same person?_

A person was more than the sum of their memories. Henry was still Henry, whether he remembered or not. And so was the blind witch the same monster who had killed... no one in this world. Were her victims real? What did it matter if people who never existed were murdered in a history that never happened?

 _It matters!_ Hansel screamed the words inside his own skull. _My family. All those families. All the children you killed, they mattered!_ And if the curse broke, if her magic and her memories returned, every child in this city, in this world, would be in danger.

He stepped forward, intending to confront her, when his foot nudged against something on the ground and he froze again before it could fall and make a noise. He glanced down to see a scuffed brick that must have served as a makeshift doorstop. Before he could overthink it, he bent down, loosening his jacket sleeve to scoop up the brick without getting prints on it. Then he eased the door open and moved into the kitchen.

The witch turned, blind eyes questing in vain for the intruder. "Who's there?"

Lips drawn back in a silent snarl, Hansel answered the question by slamming the brick as hard as he could into her head. In this world, he was taller, faster, and stronger — and she was only mortal.

Hilda Braeburn stumbled backwards into a counter, then slid to the floor, blood running down her face.

Hansel backed away, his arm falling limply to his side, staring blankly at the fallen witch, his own breathing suddenly deafening in its harshness. Gods. He had done it.

 _Murder!_ came Nick's horrified thought.

 _Justice,_ retorted Hansel.

 _You can't take the law into your own hands like that._

 _Then whose hands? She is guilty of no crime in this land._ No, in the eyes of the law, _he_ was the guilty one. Both Nick and Hansel agreed with that much, at least. He couldn't stay here — couldn't be caught. He wiped the door where he had touched it, then looked again at the ovens and thought of fire — cleansing fire. It was Nick who knew how to turn on the gas from the ovens, knew how to set the place ablaze. But it was Hansel who fled into the night.

* * *

"Turn here," said Cassidy, nodding out the window of the 'Burban. The big black SUV was usually used for tracking down drug dealers and fugitives, but Weaver had assigned it to Rogers tonight, along with Coates, another of Weaver's Anti-Crime Team.

"Here" was a dreary parking lot in a dreary strip mall on the outskirts of Hyperion Heights. Half the street lights were out, and the other half flickered uncertainly, casting more shadows than illumination over the lot. Rogers eyed it warily, wondering what the hell kind of historical interest anyone could find in a place like this? Was that run-down laundromat so old that the rubbish at the bottom of the lost and found bin could be considered artifacts of another age? Were there antique radioactive plates in the Chinese take-out?

As Coates escorted Cassidy down from the SUV, Rogers took advantage of the opportunity to pose the question Weaver had conspicuously _not_ asked during the interrogation. "So, Cassidy, what's your connection to Belfrey?"

"Who?"

"Victoria Belfrey." At Cassidy's blank look, Rogers cursed himself. Had he given something away? But he knew Weaver was keeping secrets from him, and if this was the only way to find out... well, two could play at that game.

Cassidy shook his head. "I don't know her."

"She seems to know _you_." Rogers remembered the handful of enigmatic utterances he had pried out of his partner. "According to Weaver, she thinks you're the serpent in her Garden of Eden."

Cassidy snorted. "I told you, I'm just here for my family."

Coates raised an eyebrow at Rogers from behind Cassidy's back. She had worked for Weaver for years, and the slight shake of her head might as well have been a warning from the man himself. _Drop it_.

Rogers sighed. "Fine. Where's this supposed 'archaeological' hole you claim your dear Aunt Faye has fallen into?"

Cassidy scanned the line of storefronts, frowning slightly. After a long pause, he jerked his chin at a narrow opening between a deli (closed) and a nail salon (also closed.) The passage led to the overflow parking lot in the rear, but Cassidy led them to an unmarked door in the back of the building. "Down there."

The door was held shut with a steel latch and a padlock, which Coates took less than thirty seconds to pick.

"You know, I was looking forward to bashing down a few doors when I joined the team," groused Rogers.

Cassidy scoffed.

"I'll keep it in mind," said Coates, straight-faced. She aimed a flashlight into the now open doorway, sweeping across an empty stairwell. "Looks quiet in there."

The three of them headed down the stairs, Rogers taking out his own flashlight and holding it left-handed. His prosthesis was as good as a natural hand at gripping a simple tool, but he had to keep his right hand free in case he needed to use his gun. They passed through a cluttered basement to another door. That one was unlocked and opened onto a concrete-floored hallway. The hallway led to what looked like a street from another century — that had been buried and left to decay.

"What is this?" Rogers swept the beam of his flashlight up and around in exploration.

"There was a fire back in the 1890s. They rebuilt the city a level up and this was all boarded up and abandoned," explained Cassidy.

"I've heard of that," said Coates. "It's a tourist attraction now. But that was downtown, not here in Hyperion Heights."

"You'd be surprised what people forget," said Cassidy.

Rogers searched the area for signs of activity. Nothing. It looked like the dust hadn't been disturbed for decades. Their own footprints stood alone, marking their path.

"Coates..." Rogers quietly alerted her to his discovery. Something was definitely off.

"So where's this aunt of yours?" Coates prodded Cassidy.

"This way. I think." Cassidy himself looked increasingly uncertain as he picked his way down the lost street. He stopped at one of the abandoned storefronts and peered inside. "Here."

Rogers gestured at Coates to stay back with Cassidy, then stepped warily into what seemed an empty room. Then his light glanced off something reflective It took him a moment to understand what he was looking at. "It's a bloody glass coffin!"

He moved closer in sheer disbelief. The glass was clean — too clean. The surreal image of their missing woman lying inside flashed through his mind, but he found no body under the glass.

An oversized, elaborately inscribed book. A carved wooden stick, maybe a conductor's baton? That was all.

Rogers read the title through the glass. "'Once Upon a Time'? What the hell are you playing at, Cassidy?" He whirled to catch the prisoner's face full on in the glare of his flashlight.

Cassidy grimaced, closing his eyes and averting his face. He opened and shut his mouth a few times before finally saying, "Is there a wand, too?"

"A _wand?_ " Rogers glanced again at the stick. A bloody _wand?_

Cassidy shrugged. "Just give the book and the wand to Weaver. He'll understand."

"Understand _what?_ " demanded Rogers. "That you're a lunatic Harry Potter wannabe? A woman is missing, and you think it's all a joke?"

"No." Cassidy sighed, but Rogers couldn't see any deception in his face. "It's just... difficult to explain."

If he wasn't a liar, he had to be delusional, thought Rogers. "Well, give it a shot, mate."

"There's no point. You won't believe me."

Rogers didn't believe him, but he didn't know what to believe. Best to gather up the evidence, check in with Weaver once he was done with whatever mysterious business had called him away, and move on from there. Perhaps Weaver did know something that would make sense of Cassidy's story. He took pictures of everything and had Coates collect the book and "wand".

"Right, let's get back to the station." But as Rogers stowed the "evidence" into the back of their SUV, he heard Coates take a call in the front, sounding increasingly alarmed. He shut the hatch and moved around to ask her, "What is it?"

She gave him a grim look. "Weaver's been shot."


	25. The High Priestess

_The High Priestess tarot card, numbered as the second of the Major Arcana, depicts a woman crowned with the papal tiara. She sits between two pillars, one black, one white. She is guardian and teacher of the sacred mysteries and a keeper of divine law. She warns of concealed influences. Trust your intuition, but don't let fear rule you. The impossible is possible._

* * *

 _Thump-thump badum dum boom..._

The garden thrummed, _alive_ , the crowds oblivious as they danced and shouted and beat their drums in praise of greenery. The world tilted, and everything was upside down.

 _Drums beat a rhythm across time and reality. Dancers drank from a well that had been dry and was filled again, not knowing the danger in a wish..._

People planted their seeds with no understanding of the potential fruit. Tilly wanted to shout at them, but the words twisted in her head. Too many souls, too many roots, all bound up in the sign. The sigil. The wheel with eight spokes — eight legged web spinner.

Faces blurred, names lost behind masks, until she only saw one. But one was all you really needed, wasn't it? Grinning like a madwoman, Tilly approached her, met her, tried to show her. "Come to see the fun?"

No time to talk. Too many distractions. _Weaver_. What was he doing here? "Oh look, they're arresting people now."

"What!?" And with that, Ivy — but that wasn't her name, not really — was gone.

Tilly slipped through the web, followed, a careful fly — invisible. When she saw the elephant on Belfrey's desk, she knew what she had to do.

 _For to see Mad Tom of Bedlam, ten thousand miles I've traveled..._

Ivy's house wasn't even ten miles away. Instinct (magic) showed Tilly (the girl in the tower) the path.

 _Ten leagues beyond the wide world's end: Methinks it is no journey._

Still, it was a trek and a half, and the sun had long set by the time Tilly (not Tilly) crept around the bushes, seeking Ivy's window.

"Tilly!"

Tilly spun around in shock to see a shadowed figure standing at the edge of the yard, watching her. "Detective Weaver? What—?"

Weaver (the name was only a mask) gestured at the elephant Tilly still clutched in her hand. He spoke, softly enough that she could almost hear the words behind the words, "Belfrey sent me after you. That little toy doesn't belong to you."

"I _need_ it," she tried to explain.

"Why? Did you see something?" Weaver took a step closer, his hands palms-up in a gesture of peace. "Because I saw something in her eyes today — fear."

"And I saw... I saw..." Tilly (not Tilly) backed away.

"You can tell me. Let me help." He followed her step by step until they were on the sidewalk again.

Tilly shook her head, violently enough to throw off the lies. "No, no, I need you to remember. You're in the web and you don't know it."

"What web?"

"You're the weaver but you're not Weaver, you're..." Tilly gripped the elephant harder. Elephants remembered, why couldn't she? "You're... I need you to remember!"

"Remember what?"

"Oh!" Tilly was so close, so close to knowing. "Here, take this!" She shoved the elephant at Weaver (not Weaver). "It knows. It remembers who you are."

Weaver took it with a frown, shifting to examine it under the streetlight. "Tilly, you know who I am."

"No, no, we knew each other before. Slippery... salamander? No. Eel? Lizard?" The image wavered in Tilly's mind's eye. He was someone else before. What was his name? She had to pin him down. "Why isn't the elephant working? You said it had magic!"

"I said what? Tilly, you're confused." Weaver said more, but Tilly heard another voice behind the detective's voice, telling her... telling her...

 _It must be freely given for the magic to work._

...and she had stolen it. "Ugh! No." She darted forward to grab the elephant back, but Weaver resisted.

"No, wait..."

She couldn't wait. She had to break him free of the web before it suffocated them all. Instinct (magic) grabbed for the one thing that could wake him now.

"Tilly, put down the gun!"

"Sorry, I'm sorry," she babbled, backing away. She held the gun two-handed, pointed it at Weaver.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I have to."

BANG!

* * *

"You're one lucky bastard." Rogers had heard the nurses talking — it was a damn miracle his partner had survived. There had been a few tense hours before Weaver came out of surgery, patched together courtesy of the trauma team at Hyperion Heights Hospital. "You should be dead by all accounts."

"You needn't sound so disappointed," grumbled Weaver.

Rogers shook his head, unable to find words for his relief — joy, even — at Weaver's recovery. "You must be bloody immortal, mate."

Weaver's mouth twitched in a hint of a smile. "Ah, well. Maybe next time. Where's Tilly?"

"Out in the waiting room." Rogers had been in too much of a hurry to see Weaver to pay much attention to the girl. She was one of Weaver's informants, that was all Rogers knew about her.

"Good." Weaver's eyes drifted shut. Not so immortal after all, and weaker than he liked to appear.

Rogers cleared his throat. "So what happened out there?"

Weaver blinked, taking a moment to focus. "Accident. It was an accident. You can file the report. Not her fault. She's free to go."

"Right. You get anything useful out of her?"

Weaver choked out a laugh. "You could say so." His eyes went distant again. Then he looked at Rogers. "Any luck with Cassidy?"

"That... it was strange. We didn't find any missing people. Just a weird old book and—"

"All right. You can tell me later. For now, I need you to release him."

"You want _what?_ Why?"

"New information has come to light."

"What the hell did Tilly say to you?" The girl had looked innocent, if a little out there, but she had shot Weaver. Rogers wasn't buying the 'accident' story, whatever Weaver said. "If she's threatening you..."

Weaver shook his head slightly. "Just do it, Rogers. Trust me."

Rogers bit his lip, wanting to press Weaver for a better answer, but the man looked utterly exhausted. Fine, let him keep his secrets for now. "Just this once."

That didn't mean he was letting Tilly go so easily. She was still in the waiting room, a chess board set up in the chair next to her. She glanced up as Rogers approached her. "Is he gonna be ok?"

Rogers stared at her, but found no deception in her demeanor. "Yeah, he'll live, no thanks to you."

Tilly flinched. "I can't believe I shot him."

"He said it was an accident."

"I'm so sorry. I thought..." Tilly paused, then said haltingly, "Everything was upside down. All the pieces were in the wrong place." Her gaze dropped to her chessboard.

"He doesn't blame you. Don't say anything. We'll sort it out." Rogers followed her gaze. "Playing against yourself?"

"We're our own greatest obstacle. Do you play, detective?"

"A little." Rogers watched as Tilly moved a piece, then did a double-take as she lifted her hand, revealing an... elephant? "Hold on, that's not—"

Tilly glanced up, a rueful smile creasing her face. "It doesn't belong, does it?" She swept up the elephant figurine and handed it to Rogers. "Here. Give this to Victoria Belfrey."

"Belfrey? Why?"

"Because I stole it from her office." Tilly sighed. "I thought it would help."

"And did it?" Rogers tried to follow her logic without much success.

Tilly cocked her head as she looked at Rogers. "We-e-ell, maybe. You're here, aren't you?"

"Aye, so I am." Despite himself, Rogers found himself liking this strange girl, though he wondered how Weaver ever got any usable information from her. Or was it all a sham? Maybe the tough bastard did care about someone after all, and this was his weird way of looking out for her.

* * *

Belfrey accepted the return of her property with a disdainful sniff. "Took you long enough."

So much for gratitude, thought Rogers. "There were... complications. What's this really about, Ms. Belfrey?"

"That information is above your pay grade." Belfrey shooed him away with a wave of her hand. "But you can tell Weaver to keep his street rats on a tighter leash."

Rogers felt insulted on Tilly's behalf, but held his tongue and bowed out as gracefully as he could.

* * *

When Detective Rogers came to the holding cell alone, a serious look on his face, Neal braced himself for the worst. Had his father died without ever remembering who he was? Neal remembered Rumplestiltskin's sacrifice in Storybrooke. He remembered his own death despite his father's best efforts to save him — remembered dying knowing that his own son had forgotten him. He remembered bleeding out on a battlefield, not even knowing that he had an unborn son.

He shut his eyes briefly against the painful memories. Not again. If there were any gods to listen, he prayed for them to have mercy on his family.

"Wake up, Cassidy."

Neal forced his fears down and stood up from the bench to meet Rogers. He frowned through the bars. "Yeah?"

"You've been awfully quiet since we got back. Anything to say for yourself before we let you go?"

Neal gaped at him in disbelief. "You're letting me go?"

"Aye. 'New information has come to light'," Rogers said, mimicking Weaver's accent. "Weaver ordered your release."

"Weaver? Then he's all right?" Neal kept his tone as casual as he could, but he felt his heart racing.

Rogers scowled. "He had a bloody great hole blasted through him, but aye, he'll live."

"Oh." New information or not, Neal had practically confessed to stealing the car. Even a lesser charge of joyriding still counted as a felony. For Weaver to let him go, that must mean—

 _He remembers. He's awake!_

* * *

Weaver lay in the hospital bed, adrift in a chaotic swirl of memories, trying to sort truth from delusion. His name was Rumplestiltskin. He had been the Dark One.

Madness. No. _Magic._ Was there such a thing? Rogers — _Killian Jones_ — had not recognized him beneath the detective's mask. Detective! What had his grandson been thinking, to make of the Dark One an officer of the law? A longing for justice, perhaps, and a subconscious hope that the Dark One would keep his promise.

Which didn't really explain Hook.

And it certainly didn't explain his son. His _dead_ son. Easier to think that this was all a fever dream spun out of the painkillers they had pumped into him. He was Detective Ramsey Weaver, not a character out of a fairy tale. Neal Cassidy was just a thief, not... not a child of another realm. He could not possibly be...

Only there he was, standing at the door, hesitant as any man would be who was two decades dead.

"Bae." His lips shaped the name, but he had no breath to make a sound. He could only stare, wanting it to be true. His heart beat painfully as his mouth worked, but nothing came out.

"Papa."

True. It was all _true_. He had spent hours interrogating his own son without once recognizing him. Weaver winced at the memory and dropped his gaze in shame. He said in a choked whisper, "Bae, I'm sorry..."

"Oh gods, Papa." Neal — Baelfire — had crossed the distance between them, moving forward as if to embrace him, stopped short by the line of the IV still attached to Weaver's arm. He settled for clasping Weaver's hand in both of his own. "You're alive..."

As if that was the unbelievable part. Tears sprang to his eyes. "Bae. _You're_ alive. How...?" Because it was impossible. "Magic can't bring back the dead."

"But the gods can, and so can their masters — fate."

"And the price?" There was always a price. He couldn't let his son pay it (not this time). Baelfire had already paid too much; Weaver could only hope that he had found peace in death. "Bae..."

"It's all right." Bae seemed to understand his father's anxiety. "Someone interceded for me."

"Who?"

"The Blue Fairy."

 _Reul Ghorm?_ Weaver was shocked into silence.

Bae pulled up a chair. "Yeah." He met his father's astonished eyes. "You're not the only person who's acted out of fear..."

"Fear?" Weaver echoed the word blankly, but Rumplestiltskin knew what the detective didn't. His blood ran cold. "She sent you to kill me. To undo my spell... undo _me_."

"Papa..."

"Didn't she?" It made sense. All the souls of the wish-made realm had been spun through his hands into this reality — Rumplestiltskin himself was the one thread that knotted them all together. His undoing could be used to bind all the rest into non-existence.

It was a long time before Bae finally said softly, "You changed fate. That's... dangerous."

"I'm so sorry, Bae." He closed his eyes, a wave of guilt drowning his old anger at the Blue Fairy. She had sent Bae, knowing... knowing Rumplestiltskin wouldn't hurt his own son. "I betrayed you."

"You didn't—"

"I betrayed you." He had no right to ask for forgiveness, not when his son's life was now owed to the powers of _light_. "I knew how much you hated the darkness, but I still used it. I broke reality apart to bring everyone here, people who should never have existed. Everyone except you — no magic I had was ever powerful enough to bring you back."

Bae's hands gripped his father's once again. "It's all right, Papa. We'll make it all right."

"I know I don't deserve to exist," Rumplestiltskin confessed the truth he had known all along. "If my life is forfeit, so be it. But the others—"

His son cut him off before he could finish his plea. "Don't say that!"

Rumplestiltskin opened startled eyes. The words dried in his mouth even as tears welled up when he saw Baelfire's fierce expression.

"I don't care what the fates say. You're my father, real or unreal. And you've paid the price — been paying the price, longer than you know."

"What... what do you mean?" stammered Rumplestiltskin.

"The Blue Fairy. I told you she was afraid." Bae grimaced. "Afraid of you. Afraid of your mother. That's maybe the root of this whole sorry mess."

"My _mother?_ " Rumplestiltskin felt guilty enough for what his father had put Bae through. If the Black Fairy was involved— he was afraid to complete that thought.

"Yeah. You know, it's funny the people you meet in the Underworld..."

"Her?" Rumplestiltskin gasped. He struggled to sit up, urgency overriding the pain of his injuries. "No! You... Bae, what did she say to you? You can't believe her."

"No, no, stay still. You'll hurt yourself." Bae eased his father back down onto the bed. "Listen. It's not... she's not what you think. You've been lied to, Papa."

"You can't trust my mother!"

Bae shook his head. "I didn't need to. She wasn't the only one I met there. Did you know you had a fairy godmother once?"

"What!?"

Bae chuckled weakly. "I know, right? But it's true. And later I was given Blue's memories. So I know what happened."

"What _did_ happen?" Rumplestiltskin stared at his son, brows drawn in consternation. All of this was so far outside his expectation that his thoughts ran wild, losing any semblance of logic or coherence.

"Your mother was not the first Black Fairy, any more than you were the first Dark One." Bae smiled wryly. "Weird shit really does run in your family, huh? Anyway, she wanted me to tell you the truth. She hoped the knowledge might help you."

* * *

Once upon a time, there lived a human girl called Fiona. She didn't know who had named her. Her parents had died, or abandoned her, or sold her when she was still too young to remember. Her earliest memories were of the gang of child beggar-thieves who took her in. Always hungry, always cold, survival a gamble from day to day, her only hope came from the whispered legends and rhymes passed from child to child.

She, like so many before and after her, wished upon a star. Unlike most, her wish was answered.

It was Fiona's misfortune to be born into the gutter: not royal, not pure, too tainted by want and darkness to fall under the purview of the Blue Star. Long ago, when the fairies established their order, the original power of the night had first pick among the mortal souls. The Dark Star took those who were left behind.

The Blue Star, responsible for maintaining the boundaries of light and darkness in the realms, kept a tight rein on the distribution of fairy dust. She made sure that the power went to only the most worthy. Again, the Dark Star had to make do with what was left. But the Dark Star was never one to be satisfied with a beggar's share. So — revolt, strife, and ultimately — banishment to a dark realm. Rage simmered into bitterness, duty into torment.

Fairy dust is mined from diamonds of crystallized faith, but dark fairy dust is distilled from the stolen futures of lost children.

 _Let the night sky tremble, as the Dark Star shall fall. Awake, Black Fairy, and heed my call._

It wasn't salvation; it was slavery. For years unnumbered, Fiona toiled with the other children under the Black Fairy's eye.

"Someday, my darlings, we shall be free of this hell," the woman who proclaimed herself their true mother told them. "Kings and queens you shall be, and all good things shall be yours..."

Someday, but not today. Fiona held her tongue and dreamed of someday having a real family — if only she could escape. Meanwhile, she stirred potions she dared not taste and copied spells she could not read.

"Take care, take care, lest a drop cross your lips: deadly magic lurks within," the Black Fairy warned them.

Fiona took care. She had seen children turned to tiny scurrying beetles, seen limbs wither, seen eyes turn black and pitted with unceasing nightmares. Such was the nature of the dark realm. But she also took care to watch the Black Fairy and listen to her murmured incantations. She was the latest in the line of child-scholars of the dark realm, who accumulated wisdom one stolen word and horrific accident at a time and passed it on through the generations.

The children brewed their own potions and wrote their own spells, disguised as tea parties and clapping games. They learned the secret fairy language through scribbles on the walls.

And then.

And then they fought. The crude knives of children cut immortal flesh; half-understood incantations pierced ancient wards. Impossible, you say, yet it happened. Given eternity, given infinite chaos, it happened.

The Black Fairy bled. Died? Perhaps. Her name was shattered, her flesh shredded, her bones ground into dust. The spells binding her children broke, and the survivors escaped, scattered across the realms. They carried within their hearts the shrapnel of an ancient evil, but it lay dormant. For a time.

Fiona made herself a new life in a new place. Her hard-won lore sufficed to buy her apprenticeship with a small-town apothecary. Her smiles (that concealed everything she didn't want to remember) won her the affections of a local card sharp. If he also had a past he didn't want to remember, she didn't pry. If his "entertainment" veered into thievery and base trickery, she didn't scorn the coin he brought home. They were a family.

All was well until the night the fairies fluttered into their cottage, mere minutes after Fiona gave birth to a son. A few lines of prophecy were enough to destroy the life she had built.

 _Savior. Great evil. Sacrifice._

Fiona heard the words in horror. She didn't want to believe, but didn't dare disbelieve. She threw herself into saving her son from his fatal destiny. In her desperation, she drew upon everything she had learned as a child in the dark realm to make sense of the books of fairy magic she borrowed from her son's new fairy godmother — Tiger Lily. Fiona borrowed a wand as well and transformed herself into a fairy, the better to hunt down the evil that threatened her son.

 _Whatever it costs._ Fiona didn't care what darkness wakened inside her heart. She took the whispered knowledge it offered, devising a new curse that would remove every threat to her son in one clean sweep. Never mind that reality would be torn apart or thousands cast into misery.

When Tiger Lily tried to stop her, Fiona ripped out her heart, no longer caring that the two of them had become allies — even friends. That act of darkness was enough to summon an answering darkness to Fiona's hand in the form of the Black Fairy's wand. All this was seen by the Blue Fairy, who arrived on the scene soon enough to rescue Tiger Lily's heart but too late to stop Fiona.

Fiona discovered in that moment that she herself was the "great evil" destined to die and kill her own son.

Tiger Lily was too young to understand the true significance of the shadow descending over Fiona, but Blue's heart sank as she recognized the resurgence of her ancient enemy. _The Dark Star._

Tiger Lily, in her ignorance, offered up the golden shears of destiny to Fiona, hoping to sever her friend from the evil fate that had marked her. Instead, Fiona cut her own son's thread.

And Blue raised another wand to banish the new Black Fairy back into the dark realm.

"Why?" Tiger Lily asked, once the shock wore off. "You could have cut Fiona's fate with the shears. Then she wouldn't have been a danger anymore, and she could have stayed with her husband and her son. They'd just be an ordinary family—"

"No!" Blue forbade any further questioning. "We cannot permit the Black Fairy's power to taint this realm. Unbound from Fiona, who knows what it might do?" She sent the Black Fairy's wand back into a locked box secured by her most powerful spells. "She was able to summon this wand despite all my wards... and that was only the beginning. No. The child goes to his father."

And so it was done. The fairies told Malcolm that his beloved wife wasn't coming back. That it had been an accident. That she had been trying to save their son. One truth, one lie, and one bit of wishful thinking.

Blue took no more interest in a child no longer a savior. Tiger Lily was still his fairy godmother, but Blue had other, more important tasks for her. Despite that, Tiger Lily kept intermittent watch on her charge. She slipped a magic bean to the spinsters who took the boy in when his father failed him.

That first failure was nothing to what happened in Neverland. Malcolm abandoned his son in favor of magic and immortality, bonding with the shadow demon to become Peter Pan.

Tiger Lily sought help from Blue.

"Do you know what you've done? Your meddling has set fate awry once again!" Blue showed Tiger Lily the new fairy prophecy that had been revealed to them. Rumplestiltskin, born a savior, was now destined to become the Dark One. "Fairies will die because of this."

"There must be some way to save him!"

"I'm afraid he's beyond saving. We can only try to save the rest of the realms..." And Blue took out another wand, giving it to Tiger Lily. "You are his fairy godmother. It's your duty..."

Tiger Lily knew at once what wand she held. "...to banish him to the dark realm? He's just a boy!"

"He will become the most dangerous Dark One of all."

Appalled, Tiger Lily pretended to agree, so as not to arouse suspicion. Then she broke the wand, leaving half behind in lieu of a letter of resignation. She stole the phoenix egg from the sacred vault of the fairies and fled to Neverland. If Pan agreed to sever his bond to Neverland and sacrifice himself to be reborn in the egg, he could become a savior and save both his wife and child from their dark fates. Tiger Lily finally told him the truth of what had happened to Fiona and their son, hoping to appeal to the good man he could have been.

Alas, it was far too late. Pan no longer cared. Everyone had betrayed him, as far as he was concerned. Now he only wished to drain the power from the egg for his own benefit. He managed to overpower Tiger Lily and imprison her beneath Skull Rock, but he couldn't wrest control of the phoenix egg from her.

The stalemate held for centuries, until Tiger Lily escaped at last back to the Enchanted Forest, only to be murdered by Gothel.

As for Fiona, in one reality she never escaped the Dark Realm. In the other, she made her way to the Land Without Magic...

* * *

"You said... you said you met my mother in the Underworld." Rumplestiltskin swallowed, not wanting to feel anything for her, no longer knowing what to feel — and yet... "How did she die?"

Bae hesitated, a flash of pain crossing his face.

"Bae, please."

Bae turned his head, and his slow answer was barely audible. "She cut the thread of your fate so that you wouldn't die at her hands, but she didn't cut her own."

Rumplestiltskin inhaled sharply, his stomach lurching as the implication sank in. "My other self killed her?"

Baelfire nodded. "The darkness had nearly consumed her. She still wanted her family to be happy, but she couldn't see when she was hurting the people she loved."

"Ah," breathed Rumplestiltskin. He knew that blindness all too well. As did his son, to his eternal regret.

Bae glanced over at him, then. "She would have brought me back, for your sake, but..."

"The price."

"Yeah. It would have cost my brother his innocence. And reality would have disintegrated. Not something you were willing to pay."

"But now I've done that." Rumplestiltskin bowed his head in shame.

"In a more controlled fashion." Bae reached out, touched his hand gently. "You haven't destroyed the world."

"Not this one. And Henry... your son cast the curse. The one that I created." He still couldn't meet Bae's eyes. "You know what that means."

"Yeah." Bae's fingers tightened around his father's. "I... I met her in the Underworld, too. Jacinda. So I also know you tried your best not to let him cast the curse."

"I failed." His grandson had a hole in his heart that would never completely close. No wonder his other self hated him and saw only evil in him. He tried to shake off the thought. "So. My mother..."

"She loves you. She never abandoned you. She wanted you to know that."

What was that worth? Not nothing, Rumplestiltskin decided. And yet she was still dead. He glanced at his son at last, dreading the anger he deserved but finding only sympathy. "It didn't stop my other self."

"He forgave her, but still had to kill her to protect his family. In doing so, he freed her from the dark magic that had possessed her." Baelfire smiled wryly. "You are probably the only person who could pull off a true love's matricide."

Rumplestiltskin nodded, numb. So, then. Perhaps Baelfire did forgive him, but if he had to kill his father to protect his own son... Rumplestiltskin made his peace with that. He whispered, "I understand. Do what you have to do. We're not real, never were. I just wish—"

"No, Papa, you're all real. You made that true. Yeah, your magic opened the door to some dangerous things, but we can face them together." His son was braver than he could ever be. "I told you all this to show you that fate can — and sometimes _should_ — be changed. I don't care what the Blue Fairy planned — she's screwed up your life literally from the day you were born, and that ends now. She's not here. I am."

Rendered speechless again, Rumplestiltskin could only squeeze his son's hand in gratitude and love. Whatever path Reul Ghorm or the fates had laid out, they would choose their own way.

* * *

 **Author's note:** The Black Fairy: If Fiona really was an ordinary commoner, how did she know the fairy language? How could she use a fairy wand? In a few days, she managed to learn the language and the spell to turn herself into a fairy? And the way people spoke of the Black Fairy as some ancient evil, older even than the Dark One, made no sense, nor her power to just summon the Dark One's dagger. Nor Blue's claim that she had been meant to protect children or "not knowing" what happened to turn her heart black. Sure, Blue may have been lying, but perhaps there was more to the story than we were ever shown. (Ok, Blue was definitely lying because she knew perfectly well why Rumple would summon the Black Fairy.)

And what was the "Black Fairy's wand"? It just suddenly poofed into existence? WTF? And that fairy incantation Rumple had in 6.09 suggested a more ancient history as well.

So I made up more nonsense to explain the canonical nonsense...


End file.
